"Just hold on to me, you won't fall." Adrian assures, as I cling to his arm "unless I fall first then we're both screwed." He adds and an overwhelming urge to strangle him takes over me.
Before I can say anything, Cel's shriek makes me look across...
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A.X.A
THE ONLY THING ILLUMINATING the penthouse are theskyscrapers lining New York City. They make Arden's silhouette, standing alone out on the terrace even more prominent against the darkness that cloaks the space.
Standing there under the falling snow, the golden glow of the lights outlining her form, she looks ethereal, like a true Angel.
My steps are quiet against the floor as I move to grab the half-drunk, discarded glass of wine on the coffee table, Arden's lipstick stain marring the rim. I down the liquid in a smooth sip before joining my wife in the cold.
I'd spent the day with my mother, sitting by her grave in silence, the sweet fragrance of the jasmine and freesia bouquet I'd placed in front of the headstone bringing with it a sense of comfort because I've forever associated the flowers with her.
Turns out I really needed some solitude, I needed to let myself break down completely, to mourn all the time lost, unsaid words and stew in a pool of regret in order to gather myself back together, come to terms with everything and focus on the road ahead.
And I could only do all that freely in one person's company: my mother.
As far as afternoons went, this one had been quite productive, seeing as I'd not only worked through a shitload of trauma but also exited the graveyard to news of the death of a certain model's career.
Apparently, Lola Vittiellio didn't hold back and dabbled in a long list of scandals, ranging from the mundane substance abuse arrests to the rather serious allegations of exploitation and harassment, the nepotism and controversial affair rumours with her step brother were sprinkled in every now and then as well.
The frenzy the reports had created followed chaotic and grave consequences, most of which are resulting in Lola's colourful career catching fire right in front of her eyes and rapidly turning to ash by her feet.
There's something to be said about poetic justice. I guess she should've known better than to play puppeteer, I'm not one to simply ignore when people try to manipulate me and mine.
Speaking of mine...Arden's in one of her many silk nightgowns, her passion for silk and lace nightwear is bound to drive me crazy one day, I shrug off my blazer and drape it over her shoulders gently, standing beside her.
She turns to me, those stormy eyes meeting mine, trying to stop her teeth from chattering, she swallows "You wouldn't know anything about Lola Vitilleio being dropped from every brand she was signed to, publicly disowned by her parents and being sent to rehab, now would you?"
I shrug "Not a single clue."
She hums, watching the skyline "I thought so." a moment of silence follows, then "I'm sorry."
