“Father,” he says, nodding to the man. “Thank you for being here.”
“Of course,” the priest says. “If there’s anything else I can do…”
He pulls Royal in for a one-armed hug while clasping his other hand in a handshake.
“If you need the confessional,” he murmurs to Royal, and I wonder how much this guy knows about the Dolce dealings. Does he know it was a murder, despite the police ruling it an accident?
Royal draws away and puts an arm around me. “Harper, this is Father Dante, from Thorncrown. Father, this is my girl, Harper Apple.”
I know we’re at a wake, but I have to fight the urge to smile like a fucking idiot or break into my I-just-won-tickets-on-the-radio dance. Somehow, being introduced to his priest feels more important than being introduced to his actual father ever did. So I school my face into something befitting a death in the family, and I shake hands with the priest before following Royal to our seats.
Eliza pats my knee and smiles. “You look great in this,” she says, gesturing to a black dress she helped me pick out in New York.
“You warm enough?” Royal asks, putting an arm around me. “This is going to take a while.”
“I’m warm,” I say, but I huddle into his side anyway.
The priest starts talking about Tony Dolce. I watch Royal, who’s staring straight ahead with that hollow-eyed look. But I know now what it means, so I don’t worry. He’s not empty. His monster isn’t the enemy. He’s just protecting himself from whatever pain he feels, and the monster helps. If I feel guilty about my part in his father’s death, I know it’s so much worse for his own children.
An hour later, I understand what Royal meant. I’ve been to funerals, but never a Catholic one. There’s standing and kneeling, prayers for the family, his parents, his children, and the community. Then people get up to take the podium and say nice things about Tony Dolce over his casket, which is thankfully closed, since he was basically incinerated. They’re flying him back to New York for the burial, but everyone in town wants to say goodbye first.
It seems like a bit of a farce, since we all know he was a sleazy scumbag. He’s dead now, so you’d think they’d drop the charade, but then, it’s the South. Someone’s always watching. Judging. The spectacle must go on.
When it’s finally over, there’s still the visiting that has to happen, and everyone wants to come by and give their condolences to every member of the Dolce family. The wake is basically an all-day event. The Dolces have catered, so there’s food, and everyone stands around talking. I spot the Roses and give DeShaun a wave. He jerks his chin in a little nod.
Royal’s doing his zombie routine, greeting everyone and shaking their hands and accepting their sympathy with all the emotion of a robot. I know how exhausting he finds performing, but I also know he’s traditional in a way, and he’d never skip the ceremony of it. It’s his duty, and he’ll stick it out to the bitter end.
I break off during a lull and go to get us food. Colt and Gloria are standing with plates near the end of the line, so I step up behind them.
“I’m surprised you’d crawl out of your hole long enough to come to this,” Gloria says to him, tossing her hair back.
“I’d make a joke about your hole, but seeing as how you just lost your sugar daddy, I’ll be nice today,” Colt says to her before turning to look me up and down. “Damn, Teeny.”
“Yeah, whyareyou here?” I ask, glancing around. “Your families are enemies.”
He throws an arm around my shoulders. “No, see, now that Devlin and Crystal came back and they’remarriedand have kids and shit, the Dolces are part of the family. Like half the Darlings are here, pretending Royal and the demon twins didn’t ruin our lives. It’s nauseating, really.”
Despite his words, he sounds cheerful, and he’s smiling in that lazy way that makes it seem like he’s just some dumb golden retriever and not someone who pays as much attention to his surroundings as Baron or Royal.
“Is Dixie here?” I ask, glancing around. I don’t see her, but I do spot Magnolia and Gideon over near Cotton, Rylan, and Amber.
“She didn’t come,” Colt says. “But hey, I thought Lo was more your type. You know, if you ever need some meat in that sandwich…”
“We’re at a funeral,” I point out, glowering at him.
“True,” he says. “But you said I could bring up the girl-on-girl stuff when Lo wasn’t bawling about her slut status.”
“Yeah, no more appropriate now than it was then.”
“Too bad,” he says, moving forward through the line. “But no, Dixie’s not here. Not even to take a peek into the casket and make sure the vampire is really dead.”
“I don’t see why you’re even with her,” Gloria says. “She almost got your cousin murdered, and it’s obvious to everyone that you’re settling.”
Colt laughs and shakes his head. “Should I shoot for a better girl… Maybe you?”
“You wish,” Gloria huffs, stepping forward to get food.
“Oh, right,” Colt drawls. “You’re no longer in the elite squad, which means you’re no better than me. You got booted from the Dolce girl squad for being a slut, right? One too many notches on the ole bedpost, huh?”