Page 12 of Beautiful Forever
Once he slipped into place, my heart was whole, Tristan’s heart was healed because he was able to build a relationship with his brother, Hendrix and Constantine found a loyal friend and blood brother, and our children got a man who worshipped the ground their little feet walked upon. It’s crazy how it all worked out the way it was supposed to.
I remember the hard conversation Alana and I had about poly relationships. How difficult it would be to sustain, and the judgmental attitudes we would endure because our relationship didn’t fit the norm of society. How all of it could affect any children we brought into this world.
It is hard. All relationships are. But nothing worth having is ever easy, especially love. True and lasting love is a gift you must be willing to fight for. Sacrifice for. Bleed for. And die for.
As for the judgmental attitudes? Those people can go fuck themselves. I refuse to live in fear of what other people think, and I won’t teach my kids to live with that fear, either. My scars made me an outcast growing up, and I had to learn real fucking quick to ignore the nasty remarks thrown my way. Besides, I’ve already died twice and come back. There is no fear left in me.
“What are you doing?” I ask when Aleksander moves my left hand to his shoulder.
“Fulfilling yourDirty Dancingfantasy,” he replies, and I fly into a fit of giggles when he starts waltzing me around the kitchen.
My cheeks hurt from the huge smile cemented across my face by the time he dips me low to the floor. “I wonder what fantasies you can fulfill if I make you watchFifty Shades of Grey.”
My body flies forward when he lifts me upright in his arms, and I catch the heated interest in his gaze. “Grey has nothing onme,” he says and kisses me breathless. “And Hendrix would be offended if he heard you say that.”
“True.” I peck a kiss to his nose. “Now feed me.”
Chuckling, he lets go, and I take a seat on one of the barstools while he rummages through the fridge.
Using a fingertip to slide his journal across the countertop toward me, I remind him, “Don’t forget the pickles.” He glances over his shoulder, and one eyebrow arches. “I know,” I say before he can. The man never forgets anything.
Opening his journal, I flip to the next entry—and am in no way prepared for the pain that greets me on the pages.
Six
Journal Entry
The Society gala
Thirteen years old
Tap.Tap. Tap.
Tucked at a table in a corner of the ballroom, I frantically search the crowd. We’ve been here for over an hour, and Aoife hasn’t shown up. As soon as that thought finishes, I spot Constantine and Hendrix walk in, then disappear again in the crowd. Tristan isn’t with them. Neither is Aoife.
“You’re getting on my damn nerves,” Aleksei says when I keep fidgeting.
I can’t help it. There’s this weird energy permeating the room, like an ominous whisper that won’t shut up.
“Where is she?”
The annual gala is one of the few times I get to see Aoife every year. I’ve been planning for months what to say to her tonight. I just need to pick the right moment to get her alone. Don’t need a repeat of what happened last year.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Aleksei removes the baggie filled with rolled joints from his pocket. “I’m going out back,” he says as invitation for me to join him.
I wave him off. He knows I don’t smoke. I tried once. I didn’t like how it made me feel.
“Suit yourself.”
Senator Worthington grabs my father’s attention, and Aleksei takes that opportunity to sneak away. My heart soars when I see a flash of blonde hair, and immediate disappointment settles in when the blonde girl isn’t Aoife but Serena, the senator’s daughter.
“Where is Aleksei going?” Mama’s words are drawn out and barely comprehensible.
Because she’s drunk.
Inebriation or passed out are constant states for her to be in these days. It reminds me too much of Helena Amato. And it makes me angry that my mother thinks that oblivion is the only recourse she has now. It means she’s given up.
I rescue the wineglass from her hand when she droops forward. “He went to get some fresh air.”
