There is nothing more beautiful than watching an innocent angel fall apart at my sinful actions. I'm going to ruin her.
"Augustine."
And she comes, looking down at me as she does so.
She glows, lighting up the goddamn room. Her feet barely touch t...
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"Rika's awake," I told Eros, peeking into his—our room. He was sitting in the chair on the balcony, the glass doors slid open to let in the breeze.
He glanced over his shoulder at me, but didn't speak. With one look of his eyes, I knew he was silently telling me to join him.
I walked inside and over to the balcony, the fresh air calming my apprehension.
He was texting something to Reign when I had sat down beside him. I assumed it was to let him know of Rika's situation.
"Do you want to go?" I asked, figuring the answer would probably be no.
He placed his hand habitually on my thigh, his gaze sliding over every one of my features.
"Not now," he simply spoke, but his response left a little hope to the question.
I was a little surprised, to be honest. Not now was way better than a hell no.
I don't think I could face Rika right now anyway. I still somehow feel like this is my fault. None of this started happening until I entered everyone's lives.
Guilt was like a piece of tape over my mouth, and there wasn't a moment throughout the day I didn't despise myself for letting it silence me.
"Adonis called," he said quietly. My eyes widened. I tilted my head, knowing that this was a touchy subject.
"Did you pick up?" I asked, remembering all the times he let the phone ring out when his father called.
Eros nodded, his face coated in something from the past that I couldn't decipher. I didn't know his history with his father. Well, the little history he did have with the guy.
"He wants to walk you down the aisle."
Oh. Wow.
My shock was apparent on my face.
A fist squeezed my heart.
I bypassed what he said, instead focusing on Adonis himself, "So he had a change of heart then?"
Augustine shrugged, but it was more of a this-happens-all-the-time-so-I-can't-tell shrug.
"That's very generous of him," I said, not expecting Adonis to engage because of my father's situation.
"His genuineness is questionable," Eros told me, looking off at the trees.
"It's up to you," I concluded, "I won't mind either way. But he's your father, you know him better than I do."
I sympathize with Eros, but I won't ever be able to fully empathize with him. I've never experienced what he's experienced with his dad.
"He apologized for what he said. Told me he wanted to formally express that to you, especially," he explained.
