Page 71 of Diamond Devil

The moment the casket settles into the deep soil, I turn and walk away. I can feel them all gawking, but to my surprise, no one stops me.

I find a spot under a weeping willow surrounded by concentric rings of weathered gravestones. I sit on the soft bed of grass and read the closest inscription.

Maya Crane. Beloved wife to Thomas Crane. Devoted mother to Daisy and Henry Crane.

She was forty-two when she died. Even younger than Mom.

It strikes me how odd it is that we make cemeteries beautiful. It can’t be for the dead that we tend the grass and water the flowers, right? I mean, they’re obviously not around to appreciate it. It has to be for us, then. For the living. The ones left behind.

I wonder what stole Maya from her family. An accident? An illness? Fate? In the wrong place at the wrong engagement party?

I laugh bitterly under my breath. My mom hasn’t been in the ground for more than two minutes and I’m already making sick jokes. Maybe Iamfucked up in the head.

I glance up and notice Ilarion watching me from a distance. He turns away when I catch his gaze. Again, I feel the sting I felt when he brushed past me at the gravesite and kept walking clear to the other side.

I’m not sure why I expected him to stand next to me. I shouldn’t expect a damn thing from him.

If he’s here for any reason at all, it’s for Celine. Not me.

I need to keep reminding myself of that. To keep pressing on that emotional bruise until finally—hopefully—it stops hurting.

“Taylor, honey?”

I look up and squint. “Aunt Marianne? Oh my god!”

I’m struggling to my feet when she stops me. “Don’t bother. I’ll get down there with you,” she says with a wave of her fingers, lowering herself heavily onto the grass next to me.

She clutches my hand the moment she’s seated and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I missed the service. I got on a plane the moment I got your message, but—”

“It’s okay.” I feel like a bitch for hoping that no one would show up. That was me being incredibly selfish. “I’m sorry it was so last-minute.”

“Terrible things never have good timing, do they?” She knocks her shoulder gently against mine.

I gulp. She has no idea.

“I can’t believe you flew across the country to be here at the drop of a hat.”

She sighs and grief lines consume her face. “I really shouldn’t say this, but she’s dead now, so I’ll say whatever the fuck I want: Fiona was always my favorite sister.”

I almost snort at the sudden and unexpected curse word coming from my otherwise graceful aunt. Instead, I give her a warm smile. “I know. And I really shouldn’t say this, but you were hers.”

She pats my hand as a tear slips down her cheek. “Monica’s not all bad, you know. She’s just fussy. Too serious about everything. But your momma, she knew how to have fun even when life was shitty. And life was really shitty for her the last few years.”

My own eyes sting with fresh tears. I thought I was out of those by now, but I guess not. I’m not sure if I’m crying because Aunt Marianne knows exactly how much these last few years have hurt, or because, when I close my eyes, her perfume smells just like Mom’s used to.

She keeps patting my hand. It’s like she’s trying to remind me that I’m not alone. “So,” she says, “is that Celine’s man?”

I glance in the direction she’s looking and spot Ilarion talking to a few of Mom’s cousins. We were never very close to any of them, but they live in the state, so they couldn’t avoid coming.

“That’s him,” I say reluctantly.

“She told me he was good-looking, but I really didn’t expect… well,that.”

“Mom told you?”

“No, Celine did,” Aunt Marianne says. “We speak every week or so. And your mom and I talk—talked, rather—pretty much every day. Which is why I knew something was wrong before I even got your message.”

I blink and two fat tears slip down my cheeks. I wipe them away hastily and concentrate on the way Aunt Marianne’s hand keeps me anchored to reality.

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