When Nate left, I grabbed the liquor bottle from the kitchen and went to find the company of The Seraphim. Kissing her on the forehead-as if she were mine to protect-I plopped down on the side of the bed, chuckling at the irony. I couldn't help the real thing, so I'd preserve the stone likeness.
Jesus, I was a f*****g moron.
Real genius there, Bastian.
Reaching over to the nightstand, I filled the room with Sylvie's voice, listening to her throaty melodies on the sound dock. Then, lying back, I took the bottle with me, nursing it, remembering the two women I'd loved most. With one's voice in my ear and the other's face in my sight, I drifted.
The clear liquid ignited my memories in slow motion, but I was unable to distinguish between those with Sylvie versus Sera. I should have know
