Page 64 of Cruel Existence

I walked inside with the funeral manager. I stood in his dusty office for thirty minutes, signing approvals for the servicesalready performed. I tossed the pen on the desk when I was finished.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Novikov. I’m sorry I had to ask you at this time. I’m sure your grief is unbearable. Your father was a great man. A great man to everyone in the city.”

I mumbled.

I left his office, ready to drive to the compound. The sooner Viktor and I could begin extracting the paperwork for my father’s estate, the sooner I’d be able to take control.

I walked past the receiving room. The staff was clearing out the coffee and the cake. Someone ran a vacuum over the faded oriental carpets.

“There you are.” My mother’s hand landed on my sleeve. “I’m going to take my own car back to the house. I’m going to lie down.”

I leaned to kiss her cheek. “Probably a good idea. Andrey and Katya are already gone?”

“Yes. He was concerned. He doesn’t want her on her feet.” My sister had never been fragile like crystal.

“I’ll be up late with Viktor. I’ll see you at breakfast before the service.”

She began to leave but spun on her heels. “We will ride to the church together as a family. You understand?”

“Yes.” I slid my hands in my pockets.

“Good night, son.”

“Good night.”

The attendants continued to work around me. I was the last of the mourners inside. Once the vacuum stopped humming, I was struck by how quiet it was. Without the people crying. Without people scurrying to fetch coffee and more boxes of tissues. Somewhere in this building was my father’s body. Cold. Lifeless. Alone.

I stopped before pushing through the glass doors.

The rain started slowly at first. One giant splatter followed by another. I watched it splash on the sidewalk. One. Two. Three. Throwing water. Making small wakes. I knew I couldn’t observe time pass this way. The gutters began to fill, and the downpour began. I had to get to my meeting. I was now the Pakhan.

But the rain made my soul feel heavy. It made everything feel darker and more desperate. My life in Paris seemed so far away. Yet, the one in New Orleans was just as distant.

It kept falling harder. I pushed the door open, following the line of the sidewalk when I noticed where the sidewalk met the parking pavement. A car had pulled up to the entrance.

One high heel stepped onto the curb. A slender ankle bound by a strappy lace that tied at mid-calf. My eyes traveled along her leg, dragging along toned muscle. Skin that I had memorized. Tasted. Touched. Her dress was swept to the side, gathered to keep the fabric from being soaked in puddles.

My eyes continued to roam, but I wondered if there was a way to make them stop. To stop myself from what I knew was at the end. To stop the inevitable. To stop the way the blood pounded in my veins.

“Amara,” I muttered under my breath. She was somehow ethereal even in the darkness. Her movements airy. Graceful. Fuck.I had forgotten how she moved. I had done everything in my power to erase the memory of her body.

She held her dress in one hand. In the other an umbrella. Our eyes met. I saw the confusion spread across her face. Was it from me? Was it from the locked doors of the funeral home?

“Luka.”

“Visitation is over,” I explained. I didn’t have words planned for when I saw her. But I sure as hell didn’t think it would be those.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I should have been here earlier. I guess I got the time wrong.” Her lips looked as edible as they always did. Lush. Pink. She let the umbrella tip sideways. It shielded half her face. I wanted to see her eyes again.

“It’s okay. You didn’t miss much.” I wasn’t sure how to answer. Why was she here?

“I’m so sorry about your father, Luka. I came to pay my respects to your family. I feel awful I’m late. I wanted to tell Anna how truly sorry I am. My assistant sent a card earlier and flowers. Did my flowers arrive?”

It was then I noticed the dark shadow hovering behind her. Was that fucking Ciro? Five years later, and he was still lurking? Anna? She knew my mother by first name. What dystopian hell was I living in?

“Thanks for stopping by.” The rain pelted my face. It was soaking into the collar of my shirt. I wanted to grab her by the arms and shake this nightmare away. Who was the woman in front of me who was five years older and moving through my old life as if she knew all the details and I knew nothing?

I was immobile as long as she stood in the rain.

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