Page 76 of His

She says, “Don’t ever forget, beautiful butterfly, you weren’t the first one on that bathroom counter.”

The front door opens.

I spin on my heel and step out of the room. As I quietly close the door behind me, I take one more look over my shoulder just as Valerie closes her eyes and the machines begin to flash red.

Forty-Eight

Sabine

It’s been two months since Valerie died.

After the small memorial we held for her, Astor and I flew back to New York to decompress. To begin healing and putting the past behind us. To my shock, this included Astor officially stepping down as the CEO of his company, Astor Stone, Inc.

He says he’s done with darkness. With living a life shrouded in death. He wants to live a more simple, laid-back life centered around only one thing—me.

Though he was already handling the position, Astor appointed Cillian as the CEO of his company. Astor will hold the position of chairman of the board, stepping into that role after taking a full year off. Beyond that, he has hired a team of people to help manage his billion-dollar empire, to take much of the weight off his shoulders.

It’s a reset, he said, and I’m damn proud of him.

Cillian is already making waves within the company, demanding his mercenaries enroll in additional classroom time that includes extensive lethal combat training—not surprising considering how easily he took out Astor. Much like Astor, he’s a ruthless and efficient businessman, but unlike Astor, he wears t-shirts, tactical pants, and combat boots to the office.

I’ve grown to love the man.

Now that the dust has settled, we’ve decided to return to the beach house to clean it out before putting it up for sale. It’s something we’ve both been dreading, but it needs to be done for both of us to move on.

Astor turns off the engine, leans back, and we both sigh in unison.

We despise this place.

The yard and garden is overgrown, half brown, brittle, and dying. Dead leaves speckle the porch and walkway. Autumn is in full swing in the Pacific Northwest.

The house smells old and musty, with a lingering antiseptic scent. It makes my stomach roll.

Astor takes me by the waist and pulls me in for a hug. “Thanks for coming.”

“Everything together. That’s our motto. Now. Let’s get in and get the hell out.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

I open the windows as Astor puts on a pot of coffee and an upbeat playlist to help combat the dark, gloomy vibe that lingers in this godforsaken place.

I pause in Valerie’s room, visions of her last moments alive sweeping through my thoughts.

“Sabine,” she’d said, crystal-clear. In her final moments, the only thing that mattered to Valerie was making sure I knew that Astor had sex with her first. She was a troubled, ill woman, and I hope she’s in a better place.

We spend the day packing what little belongings Valerie had, then emptying the cupboards, the refrigerator, the cabinets, removing paintings and pictures from the walls. We’re donating all the furniture and have arranged for that to be picked up at a later date.

Packing is tedious and exhausting work, and before we know it, dusk has fallen on the horizon.

Astor and I decide to go outside for some much-needed fresh air. Hand in hand, we walk through the brown, brittle garden. Once full of life, now withering away.

The tip of the sun peeks out from above the ocean line in the distance. The temperature has dropped, cool enough for the couple walking hand in hand on the shore below to wear coats.

Simultaneously, Astor and I take a deep breath, and then laugh. We’ve become freakishly in-tune with each other. After all, we’ve been through hell and back.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and, for a minute, we watch the couple below.

“That will be us someday.”

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