Precious Bones by Irina Shapiro

Author:Irina Shapiro
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Occult, Historical Romance, Horror, Romance, Gothic, Historical, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Merlin Press LLC
Published: 2013-11-21T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

July 2010

When I opened my eyes, the gentle haze of the summer morning filled the room. The sheer curtains at my window were rippling in the gentle breeze, and the sound of birdsong could be heard over the rumble of cars in the street. I suddenly remembered last night and looked over to my right. The pillow still held the indentation of Adrian’s head, but the bed was empty where he had lain. Adrian had tucked me into the comforter leaving me cocooned in its warmth.

A scrap of paper was peeking out from under my alarm clock, and I reached out a hand to take it. It simply said, “Call me if you need me. - A.T.” So he was gone. I snuggled back into the comforter not wanting to rise. Despite the horrible events of the day before, I felt slightly better. Adrian’s presence left me wrapped in an invisible bubble of cotton wool, shielding me from the tidal wave of grief and betrayal that was ready to break over me once again. I needed just a few more moments of peace before facing the ugly truth that this morning brought.

Today was the first day of the rest of my life, a life which would no longer contain Tristan, with whom I thought I would spend the rest of my days and raise a family; or Joanna who had been my friend and confidant. As soon as I began to think these thoughts, the bubble burst, and I was smashed against the rocks of my despair by the rushing waves. I pulled the blanket over my head and curled into a fetal position. I wished that Adrian was still there, solid and comforting, and tactful enough not to ask any prying questions. I berated myself for being a pathetic weakling and forced myself out of bed. I needed to take a shower, throw some food into my hollow stomach, and find something to occupy myself with so completely, that I wouldn’t think about the fact that Tristan hadn’t even bothered to call to make amends.

I was just pouring myself a cup of coffee, my hair still damp from the shower, when I saw a shadow pass in front of my kitchen window and heard a knock on the door. My first instinct was to pretend I wasn’t at home, but running away from things had never been my way, so I set down my cup on the counter and went to open the door. I wasn’t surprised to find Tristan standing on my doorstep looking as if his night had been much rougher than mine. His shirt was rumpled and he smelled of alcohol, his hair tousled, and his face covered in the stubble of a day-old beard. I simply stood aside to let him pass, following him into the kitchen and picking up my cup of coffee as calmly as I could. Seeing him looking so miserable had unsettled me and I felt almost sorry for him, offering him a mug of coffee.

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