Page 63 of The Dead Romantics

“Because it was my fault in the first place, Florence, and I loved her too much to cause that pain again. She deserves someone better than me.”

I clenched my hands tightly into fists. If Lee had contacted me once after we’d broken up, if he’d asked to try again, to meet in the middle, I would’ve— “You’re an idiot.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“So—what—you believe in love but just not foryou? You believe in romance and grand romantic gestures and happily ever afters but you think there is something so fundamentally wrong withyouthat you don’t deserve it?”

“It’s better than not believing in it at all, isn’t it?” he snapped back.

I rolled my eyes and slammed my laptop closed. “I’ve got to go—do something. But for what it’s worth? You’re wrong.” Then I hopped off my stool and stalked out of the bar and up the stairs to my room, and he didn’t follow. Carver texted me a little while later, while I was pacing back and forth in my hotel room, trying to calm down.

Wanna wash some graves?he asked.

Not really, I replied.

Too bad, sis.

Ugh, fine. After I’d changed clothes into something I wouldn’t mind sweating in, I came back down and peeked into the bar, but Ben was gone.

Good. I was too angry to deal with him right now, anyway.

Carver and Nicki were waiting outside on the porch when I came out. Nicki was a short and stocky man with an angular face and thick black glasses to match his thick black hair and warm brown skin. His family owned a hotel in Cancún, so he understood the trials and tribulations of afamily business.I was at least thankful for that—he understood the little nuances in our family, the weight Dad’s death left on us. I was glad Carver had him, especially now.

Carver had always been the one with his heart on his sleeve.

On the front veranda, Carver held up a portable pressure sprayer and a blue bucket filled with sponges and scrapers. “Ready to have some fun?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, sure,” I replied coldly.

He gave a low whistle. “What’s got you all twisted?”

Ben. The fact that he thought it was his fault that—“Nothing. Just work stuff,” I added, not quite lying.

“Well, perk up! Because this is work, too,” he insisted, and then narrowed his eyes. “Gravework.”

“That was bad.”

“Dead on arrival?” he asked, scrunching his nose.

I snorted. “Let’s get going, yeah? The sun’s going to set in an hour and I can’t be there after dark.”

“Hell yeah!” Carver pumped his fist into the air, and then turned, grabbing his partner by the wrist, and led him down the path to the sidewalk. “Nicki loves doing this.”

Nicki nodded. “It’s very soothing, and gives your arms a fantastic workout.”

“All the better to squeeze me tighter.”

“You’re my tightest squeeze.”

They kissed, and I made a face. “Ugh, gross. True love.”

“Tastes like a Taylor Swift song,” Carver added, and began to hum “The Story of Us,” which made me just want to throw myself off the nearest bridge. Resisting, I followed them to the cemetery, trying to shove my annoyance with Ben as far down into my gut as possible.

“Should we invite Alice?” Nicki asked.

Carver shook his head. “Nah. I bet she’s about to have a mental breakdown anyway, what with the makeup news from this morning.”

“Poor Alice...”

---