Page 82 of The Keeper

His frivolous question stole my breath. In a flash, I was transported back to the event in London when Xavier said similar words to me, wrapped in a much different intention. I bit into the hot dog, gathering my emotions. These last few hours may have been the longest I’d gone without thinking of him.

“Have you decided what you’re wearing to the Met Gala?” Maxim asked.

I shook my head. The gala was coming up quick and I really wanted to look amazing. I had a few options, I just needed to pick one.

“If it helps,” Killian spoke between mouthfuls, “Max and I are wearing all black tuxes.”

“So you’re saying I should wear an all black tux as well?”

“Do you have any idea how hot you’d look in one of those?” Killian clutched his chest. “I’m dead just thinking about it.”

I laughed, popping some pretzel in my mouth. “Come over tomorrow after I’m finished at the cemetery. I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to go with you?”

I shivered slightly in the cool breeze. “I’m sure. Thank you anyway.”

“It’s freezing.” Max complained. “Ready to call it a night?”

We all finished our snacks and walked to the waiting limo. When we arrived at my building, both of them hugged me so hard I thought I might break. I waved goodbye, went up to my condo and got ready for bed. In an effort to ward off a potential hangover, I downed a bottle of water and took a pain reliever. Sliding under the covers and snuggling into the pillows was the best feeling after a night like this.

I grabbed my phone to see the picture from the club. I have to say, I looked happy. Everyone did. I grinned, posting it with the caption When Legends gather, greatness follows.

Exhaustion swept over me, blurring my vision. I scrolled through the feed, liking pictures here and there.

Killian: Home safe. Night baby girl

I responded to Killian and meant to put the phone away.

But I didn’t.

I shouldn’t text Xavier but I wanted to. I’m too old for all this ridiculous angst. We’re both adults. I should start acting like one. I was a colossal asshole to him and I have to be the bigger person here. Whether he wanted to hear from me or not was another story.

I miss you, I’m sorry, I’m thinking of you…

Me: Sorry if I hurt you.

Victoria

The cemetery was quiet and empty. Well, almost empty. A teenage boy leaned against one of the headstones with a sketch pad. I propped myself up on my knees, leaning back on my feet. Reaching forward, I rearranged the pink roses I’d placed in front of Charlotte’s grave. Seeing my twin’s name etched in stone was a gut punch every single time. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“So,” I sighed, “I guess you know all the shit that went down in England. Mom’s always on some crusade. Did I do the right thing though? Should I have just signed the paperwork?”

I pulled on some blades of grass. The sun dipped behind a cloud, muting the sky. Not in an ominous way though.

A sparrow landed on the gravestone, twitching its head this way and that, showing off its glossy dark blue feathers. I’d read somewhere that sparrows were symbols of hope. I’d also read they were symbols of sorrow so I guess it depends on which culture’s description best fit the situation.

“Xavier was unexpected, wasn’t he?”

The roses rustled in the soft breeze.

“Yeah, I know.”

I plucked a petal from one of the roses, rubbing its velvet softness between my fingers.

“I can’t take back what I said, Charlie. As much as I want to, I can’t.”

A squirrel ran by, frantically searching for something. Its tail twitched when it sat upright to stare at me.

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