Page 179 of Sinful Desires
“Oh, the superstar! I watched you sing for the Olympic Games in Japan, four years ago.”
Just two months before the Dawsons’ party. Two months before I had seen her for the first time.
Before I’d dragged her out of that fountain and let her ruin every quiet part of me.
Scarlett smiled. “I’m so sorry if my presence is intrusive. Théo told me all about you and?—”
My mother cut in gently. “You have the most angelic voice, Scarlett. You did a cover of ‘Let It Be’that night, didn’t you?”
Scarlett blinked, surprised. “Yes. I did.”
“My husband loved that song. He used to hum it in the kitchen every Sunday morning.”
A beat passed, quiet and aching.
It was true. I remembered him saying it once, maybe twice.That “Let It Be” was one of the best songs ever written.
Scarlett’s voice softened. “My mother used to sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep.”
My mom reached for her hand. “Then maybe that song lives in you both.”
She dropped Scarlett’s hand gently and made her way to the bed, her movements slower now, quieter, like the years had finally caught up to her. She sat down beside him, brushing a crease from the blanket before taking his hand in hers.
“Marc loved singing too,” she whispered, her voice threading the silence. “Said it was the only way to free yourself from this world without dying.”
Her thumb moved over his knuckles, soft and reverent.
“He used to sing to me when I couldn’t sleep. When I was pregnant with Théo. When he would brush my hair at night.” Her voice caught, eyes fixed on my dad. “Now I sing to him. Every morning. Just in case.”
She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.
“In case some piece of him is still listening.”
A harsh sob tore out of my throat before I could stop it. My knees gave in, hitting the cold floor as my hands found the edge of the bed, gripping it.
“Maman?…?je suis désolé.”
The words came strangled, barely there. I didn’t dare look up. One parent breathing, the other floating somewhere between this world and the next.
My body folded between them, caught in a space where no apology could ever reach far enough.
“I’m so sorry. For every fucking thing.”
My shoulders shook as I pressed my forehead to the mattress.
“I would never forgive myself either. So, I won’t ask you to.”
Tears soaked the cotton as my chest heaved.
I wanted to fucking rewind time.
I wanted to bleed out every sin, one by one, until I was clean enough to deserve the man in the bed and the woman still holding his hand.
But I fucking knew better.
There was no forgiveness left for me.
Only this. This moment.
