2011: It's been ten years since the sky literally came crashing down around Yael Malkah and upended her world. Now she's returned to New York to visit her ailing grandmother. With no other family, it's up to her to take care of the family business...
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Haustin hated funerals, a reaction probably stemming from the days after 9/11 when he attended thirty-four in eleven days. A hole churned in his gut, a fiery combination of bad memories, and the realization he did not belong here. He tried, he really did, but keeping his gaze from the spectacle around him was impossible. The church had filled to the brim with a who's who of the city's hotshots, dressed in their finest and toting expensive handbags. To them, this was just another excuse to be seen.
A deep-throated giggle came from somewhere behind him, and Haustin tensed. Bastards needed to show Yael more respect. He stretched his neck in an attempt to loosen the noose resting there thanks to a brand new button-up shirt. Hell, he'd even bought a blazer and a tie. Not that Yael noticed, she'd been so distracted. At least he convinced himself it was distracted and not distant. Great, now he was at a funeral, wondering if his girlfriend even noticed him.
He snuck a glance at her from the corner of his eye, taking in her stiff back and the stubborn set of her jaw. Three days since Miriam had passed, and other than a short hour, this was the first time he'd seen her. He wished to hell he knew what was going on in that beautiful head of hers, but regardless of his night shifts and her preparing for the funeral, he hadn't been able to be there for her in a way he would have liked.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Yael's voice cut through his musings.
Shifting his attention to the church, Haustin nodded. He'd only been inside St. Patrick's Cathedral once or twice before—a long time ago. Didn't stop him from staring at the high stone arches now, mouth agape. Bright summer sun burst through the stained glass windows, sending jeweled light across the floor. The soaring buttresses in the ceiling were a work of art, humbling him and causing him to shift under the watchful eyes of the Jesus statue in the corner.
"It is," he confirmed. "And much better to gawk at than what's going on around us."
"Kind of a circus, huh?"
"Little bit."
Linking his fingers with hers, Yael said, "I've missed you."
Booming organ music cut off his reply, signaling the beginning of the service, and its resonating vibrations triggered a sharp ache behind Haustin's eyes. Cotton filled his mouth, and hunger consumed him. Stifling a groan and praying his stomach behaved, Haustin cursed his withdrawal. Wrong time to act up, and yet this was exactly the sort of event he used to need pills to survive. Instead, he tried to draw strength from Yael's touch and not selfishly remember how the high would cover him slowly from head to toe like a warm blanket, teasing away his anxiety and ineptitude with a lover's touch.
Members of Malkah Enterprises's board carried Miriam's ivory and gold casket down the aisle, and as it passed their row, Yael's grip on his hand tightened. Once they placed Miriam on the ornate altar, surrounded by dozens of red roses, Casey took his place on the other side of Yael, and the bishop opened with prayers and a hymn. Soon after, Casey returned to the podium, looking as put together as ever, except for the dark circles under his eyes.
