Page 248 of Remy

Dad would’ve wanted him here.

I want him here. Well, I did, then I didn’t, and then I did again.

My head is such a mess.

I lean forward, offering Lorenzo an awkward hug in the hopes of sending him on his way. “Thank you for your support. Maybe we’ll talk again later.”

“Of that I’m certain.” He returns the embrace with one arm, then hobbles away, leaving Salvatore to approach.

The formidable man stares at me, then peers over his shoulder to Remy who pushes from the building, his brows creased in a severe frown. He seems poised to storm over here at any moment.

Please do.

“He’s trying to kill me with his eyes,” Salvo mutters. “I wonder if he knows he’s not a Jedi.”

My lips twitch with legitimate humor. “If only.”

He snickers. “It’d take more than that to end me.”

“I assumed as much.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to destabilize the nausea.

His humor fades, his dark eyes gaining a surprising hint of hardened compassion. “Losing a parent is difficult. I assume it’s even worse if they were worthy of the role. So my thoughts are with you, Liv. And like Lorenzo said, if you need anything, you’ll be taken care of—in the near future and as the years pass.”

I don’t acknowledge the offer.

I pretend it doesn’t exist.

I will not cling to comfort from Salvatore Costa. I’m not that unhinged.

“Now I’m choosing to retreat slowly.” He backs away a step. “No sudden movement in case my brother has an itchy trigger finger.”

My lips twitch again, and the warmth that invades my cold sterility at the thought of Remy’s protection becomes a solace I yearn to drown in.

I glance back to where he stood against the building, no longer finding him there. I scan the courtyard, anxious at the thought of him leaving before we can talk.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia,” an elderly voice offers.

I jolt against another unwelcome hug.

It’s one of twelve more I receive until the line of mourners is gone, the crowd already moving on to the wake room for coffee and cake while I’m left to stand staring at my shoes.

If I was strong enough, I’d pull my father’s letter from my blazer pocket to read his final words again, because apparently the three hundred and fifty-five thousand times I’ve already done it haven’t been enough.

But reading his words is the only time I don’t feel alone.

Completely isolated.

There’s no Mom. No Dad. No Remy.

Footsteps approach and I tense, wondering if I’ve willed the keeper of my heart to come find me.

We need to talk. There are things I have to say.

“Liv,” a male voice greets.

I raise my gaze to the man coming to stand before me. “Hugo.” My voice is full of surprise, but I suppose it shouldn’t be. He worked with my father for months before he was fired. “Thank you for coming.”

He scoffs. “It wasn’t for your benefit. I’m actually surprised you haven’t had me escorted off premises.”

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