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Chapter Twenty-Four

The funeral had been beautiful, perfectly celebrating Beatrice's life. I wasn't surprised when I saw how many people had made an effort to pay their respects — she really had touched so many lives and it never went unnoticed.

Hearing the priest talk about Beatrice didn't anger me like I'd thought it would have. She'd known she could have been regenerated if she'd wanted that, but she'd been strong in her beliefs and I knew she'd have appreciated his every word as they sent her on her way towards peace.

Bruno had attended, as stony faced as he'd ever been. It irked me that he hadn't shown any emotion at all but I knew people grieved in different ways, so I tried my best not to judge. I still took his hand during the service and held on tighter when he'd tried to pull away. When he'd finally managed to relax, he rewarded me with a small smile and I'd known my annoying persistence had paid off.

What had truly broken my heart was seeing Remy cry, the very thing I'd never wanted to see. I'd held him as he'd wept, knowing it was healing for him to express real emotion following the loss of a loved one. I found myself smiling through my own tears — even in death, Beatrice found a way to help people.

A few days later, it was the first real sunny day we'd seen in a while, despite being early July. Maybe that was it; the annual day of sun that Britain celebrated.

We were in the kitchen, me sitting on my usual stool eating a Mr. Freeze, watching Remy amble about the kitchen. His new hobby, he'd decided, was cooking. He'd said he was trying to honour my comparison to Ratatouille as best he could.

The operative word being trying.

Listen, I love him. I really do. I'd had a lot of time to think about that whilst he was gone. But the man burned toast on the regular, for crying out loud. I'm sure if he tried hard enough he could burn water. I had to watch over him, fearing he'd burn the house down without supervision — at least that was the excuse I was going with to cover for my staring at him the whole time.

I jumped as a pan lid clattered to the floor. He looked up at me apologetically before bending to retrieve it.

"Please tell me," I said in disbelief, "You did not just drop that lid on the floor and then put it back in the cupboard."

Remy reappeared and spread his arms in mock surrender. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I shuddered dramatically, depositing my now-empty ice lolly wrapper into the bin and retrieving the lid — and the one underneath it for good measure — before setting them down in the sink. "Men are so gross."

"Eh," he contested, sneaking a kiss on my cheek as I returned to my seat. My cheeks flamed red in response and he noticed, grinning at the fact he could still force that kind of reaction from me. "A little dirt won't kill you."

Bruno chose that moment to swing into the room, making my cheeks burn harder. His impossibly long legs allowed him to cross the whole kitchen in four strides. Show off. "You'd know all about that, huh, big brother?"

Remy and I both rolled our eyes. Bruno's smile shone with teasing as he fished about in the fridge and I couldn't help but smile back.

"We have no food in the house, I'm starving," he whined.

I made panicked cutthroat motions with my hand but it was too late.

"Oh, I'm making some food for a picnic at the park, you're welcome to have some," Remy offered.

Bruno looked at me for help and I stared back at him sarcastically. He immediately went up in my estimations for not teasing Remy about his cooking — his brother's culinary exploits were already infamous amongst the Martins.