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Alexandra stared at Rick as if to say, “Stop talking,” and he backed down.
“Well, good, I’m glad she’s alright,” I said. “I hope?—”
“Life is complicated,” Rick said. “We appreciate all you have done to help with this project.”
The tone was odd. Then, I realised I was holding up the line that formed behind me. They weren’t at liberty for any more personal conversation. I moved along, unsure whether hearing that Odette was fine improved my state of mind. With my thoughts still racing, I found Stephen.
“How was that?” He judged me.
“It was fine,” I answered. “They’re well. Thanked me for my help.”
“And The Princess?” Stephen raised one eyebrow and stared down at me.
“She’s fine. Why must you just… bring up Odette?”
“Because you are still hung up on her,” Stephen said. “And I know I shouldn’t bring it up because it is not professional, but you ran off so fast?—”
“She broke it off with me.”
“If you had grovelled, she probably would have accepted it. You shouted at her, and she shut down.”
“Couples argue.”
“She’s twenty-four years old, Wyatt.”
“She’s twenty-three.”
“She turned twenty-four. All of us here knew about it because Her Majesty threw a party. She looked miserable to attend—attend without you, I suspect.”
A pained look crossed my face. I was unable to hide. Then, a question crossed my mind.
“Stephen, how did you know what happened?”
“I heard you shouting at her—the entire office did. And then I heard your breakdown after it. And I never brought it up because I knew it would embarrass you, but… sir, she was good for you.”
“Well, I did care about her. I do. I wish her well, but I don’t think she’s mature enough to handle anything long-term.”
I lied to myself because I didn’t believe that. We were both a bit broken and afraid to love anyone, but she did what she did with remarkable maturity. She put Theo above everyone else. Meanwhile, I selfishly pulled him to a country he didn’t feel was his own and put him in situations he detested. He was wilting. We’d been so happy here. I felt lonelier than ever, even in a room of more than a thousand.
68
THE AFTERLIFE
ODETTE
“The bitch is dead! The bitch is dead!”
I heard it as a celebration. Alexandra’s voice rang through the house. Who was dead? What bitch? It took me a moment before I put it all together. I tossed my sheets off and opened my bedroom door to see Alexandra dancing around with baby Manon on her hip as gleefully as she could muster.
“Celeste is dead?” I asked.
“She’s dead. Dead as a doorknob! The wicked bitch is dead.”
Manon giggled, clearly happy to see her mother’s cheerful expression.
“How? When?”
I thought Celeste might never die. I worried she might live forever and never thought about the “after.” Like my worries about marriage and babies being a mysterious blank space, Celeste’s afterlife didn’t exist in live colour. Now, I was living in it.