Page 118 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Sometimes I forget that your family is like... old money.”

“Gun powder.”

“What?”

“Gun powder.” I stopped in my tracks and Del almost ran into me, all wide-eyed and in awe of the grounds and the buildings. “My family’s fortune goes back to the civil war. Got another good boost in the First World War. Then they turnedthe image around in the twenties and became hoteliers. But theold money? I got that because my ancestors profited from people killing each other. Sure, you can call them merchants, or suppliers, or manufacturers, but my ancestors werewar profiteers. My father didn’t deserve a dime of it, and neither did any of my ancestors.” I glanced back at the house, poking into the sky with its steep roofs and many chimneys. “I hope they’re rolling over in their graves while I give it all away.”

“I had no idea,” Del mumbled.

“Ireallyhate guns.”

“Makes sense.”

I sighed and tried to offer her a small smile before I started walking down the path again. It curved around a big old birch tree with leaves lush enough to hide the mausoleum. There were no plants snaking up the marble walls and no insects nesting in its crevices, because this was the one place I’d hired proper maintenance for. The inside was flooded in rainbow light thanks to a spotless stained glass window, and a small potted flower arrangement bloomed right in front of my mom’s grave.

“The reason I haven’t sold this house,” I said and traced the words ‘loving mother’with my fingertips. “I’m selfishly too sentimental.”

“I don’t think that’s selfish, Cordelia,” Del said and stepped up beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “It’s completely normal to be sentimental.”

Maybe she was right, but my sentimentality came attached to a couple million dollars worth of real estate. There was no point in starting an argument though, not when Del was just trying to comfort me.

“Could you give me five minutes?” I asked instead.

“Of course. I’ll go for a little wander, but I have my phone if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

I waited until her steps had scrunched up the gravel far enough for her to be out of earshot before I let out a deep sigh and closed my eyes.

“I don’t know how this works,” I whispered, letting my fingernail catch on the etched grooves of her birthday. “I don’t know if you can see me, or hear me, or if you’ve been reborn and you’re a teenager somewhere on the other side of the world. And I know this is just another selfish thing, but I really wish you were here with me.”

Memories of this place replayed in my mind. Memories of Mom catching me when I jumped into the pool. Of Mom running down the long hallways and hiding in doorways and alcoves as I ran after her. Mom digging through the soil as she planted an apple tree in the backyard, explaining that our family was very lucky to have inherited this home and it was our responsibility to make sure we left it better than we got it.

The images were interrupted by the echo of a gunshot and I opened my eyes before the blood from that day could stain the good memories.

My gaze flicked to the other date right next to Mom’s birthday.

“It’s so strange. I see you almost every night, but I’ve actually spent more of my life without you than with you.” I dropped my hand and leaned back against the wall, my eyes roaming over the other graves. Dad’s was right next to Mom, and right underneath them was an empty slot, covered by a blank stone. That one had been reserved for me from the day I was born. Another empty one waited beside it, reserved for whoever was dumb enough to tie themselves to me.

“He makes me feel safe, you know? Everything is always chaos. Sometimes it seems like the whole world is going up in flames, but it just keeps on turning. Everyone just keeps going about their lives, as if all of the violence and all of the hate wascompletely normal, as if it didn’t affect them. But I can’t ignore it. It’s always there. Everything is always there.” I tapped my fingers against my forehead. “But he makes it go away, even just for a little bit. I can breathe when he’s there.”

The air in my lungs trembled up my throat and my eyes burned, the next words already festering in my mind. But I had to get them out.

I had to tell her.

“I think I have to let him go. Everything I do ends up hurting people. If I hadn’t made you come dress shopping with me, you wouldn’t be in this place. Victor has gone through so much because of me. He doesn’t deserve that. I don’t think he realizes how much it’s going to cost him if he stays with me. I can’t do that to him. I can’t keep hurting him.”

“You’re wrong.”

I jumped at the sudden interruption. A large silhouette crowded the doorway, and for a second, the cheekbones, the sharp jawline, I thought maybe… but where Victor wore tattoos on his skin, a long silver scar ran down Luka’s neck.

“What are you doing here?”

“Shit, you really need better security, you know?” He leaned back against the doorframe and lit a cigarette.

“You can’t smoke in here.”

“Fine. I’ll smokeouthere.” He huffed blue smoke out into the backyard.