“Maybe if I get these dishes sparkling, you’ll forgive me.”
“Those dishes are older than you. They no longer sparkle.”
“Well, you certainly know how to keep hold of things that aren’t worth a shit.”
My ears perk at his comment.
“You wear both tattoos like badges of honor, but which house do you really serve?”
“This house, today,” he replies without pause. “And I explained to you a long time ago I wanted to serve both.”
She huffs, indignant. “They are not one and the same. They’re contradictions of the other.”
“That’s what we’re trying to change.”
“You know better.”
“I refuse to give up, and you have no place lecturing anyone on that.”
I can feel the tension his scorn causes. The house goes silent again as I make my way toward the bedroom door and peek out, seeing just enough of Tyler as he kneels down in front of her. I’m too far away, but I swear I catch her features soften as he whispers to her from feet away.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been back.”
He pulls the drink from her hand and sets it on the table. Tentatively, she reaches out and palms his cheek, and he covers it with his own.
“I had high hopes for you.” She pulls her hand away, and he sighs.
“Keep them high, along with your expectations, but you have to live to see me meet them. What in the hell have you done to yourself, Delphine?”
She leans in on a whisper, her eyes finding mine over his shoulder before I jump back into the bedroom and head toward the bathroom to finish my task.
So, Delphine is in on the secret.
Interesting.
But I’ll never be able to use this to my advantage. She’s just as closed off as Dominic. I’m not enough of a crowbar to try and breach her barriers. I know this without even trying.
After spending endless minutes scrubbing her bathroom and setting out roach bait in every corner, along all the baseboards, and in her closets, I move to join them in the living room. Tyler’s clearing a thick layer of dust from one of her floating shelves. “How do you breathe in here, Delphine?”
She lifts her vodka bottle and pours an inch into her glass. “Breathing is overrated.”
He shakes his head and peers down on her, his voice full of authority. “Stubborn ass woman.”
“Careful, have some respect for your first crush,” she says softly.
He tilts his head, his eyes brimming with affection until she averts her gaze.
“Bet you never thought I would end up like this.”
“I have no pity for you,” he clips, “the woman I knew would fight this shit with her eyes closed. You are choosing this.”
“I chose the wrong man.” Her lips curl into a sad smile as she takes another sip. “You fight this for four years and then come lecture me about it. Cancer is very much like a cockroach. They always come back to the one who hosts them best.”
“First of all, he was a piece of shit,” Tyler supplies, a sharp edge to his voice. “And secondly—” He stops berating her when I walk into the room.
“By all means, carry on,” I gesture, “I heard every word.”
Delphine laughs, lifts her glass, and drains more vodka. She doesn’t even look phased by the alcohol. Clearly, she’s earned her tenure as a drunk. After a long swallow, she nods toward me. “I like this one.”