Buttons and Blame (Buttons 5)

She extended her hand, her palm facing the ceiling.

I opened my nightstand drawer and pulled out the small plastic bag. I dropped it into her hand.

She examined the pink pills, the perfect color to blend into her mouth.

“It’ll be over in less than five minutes…”

She nodded then placed them into her front pocket.

I sat beside her in silence, watching the minutes trail by before we had to leave. Her essence was heavy in the bedroom, in the entire house. It would take a while before the smell finally disappeared, for me to sleep in the middle of the bed because I no longer had to share. I wouldn’t see her hair in the shower drain or her toothbrush sitting on the counter. This house would return to being empty, to being silent. Ever since the first day I’d moved in here, she was here with me. I’d never truly lived here alone.

Now I would.

It was hard to imagine coming home from work without seeing her. It was hard to imagine talking to Pearl and Crow like everything was normal when Adelina was obviously missing. I knew Pearl was thinking about both of us that very moment, knowing exactly what was to come.

I waited for Adelina to cry. But she didn’t.

I waited for her to shake. She didn’t do that either.

She stayed absolutely still, staring at the opposite wall.

There was nothing I could say to make this better, so I didn’t say anything at all. Words meant nothing at a time like this. She was literally marching to her death. The only consolation I gave her was those pills.

They would end it quickly.

My hand moved to hers, and I grabbed it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Her fingers responded to the touch, and she interlocked our fingertips. Her sight never left the wall, her breathing just as deep and even as before.

I sat with her and didn’t say anything at all. Being there with her seemed to be the final gift I could impart. She was still with me, and as long as she was mine, she was safe.

I just wished she could always be safe.

* * *

A short plane ride later, we were in Southern France. We drove from the airport to Tristan’s lair on the coast. There wasn’t another building for miles, and he had direct access to his own personal harbor. It made smuggling all the easier.

I drove ten miles below the speed limit, taking my time getting there. I was in no rush, and neither was she. I said I would be there at seven, but I didn’t give a damn about being late. Tristan’s anger didn’t impress me.

My hand held hers tightly on her thigh. I never removed it. I could gradually feel her pulse quicken as we came closer to Tristan’s place. Her breathing never accelerated, and her eyes didn’t fill with tears. She wore a cold expression, her walls already fully erected for what was about to happen.

I admired her more than I ever had.

She could break down and cry, but she didn’t. She could panic and scream, but she didn’t do that either. She faced death with her head held high and her shoulders back. She did it with both dignity and grace. Tristan could do whatever he wanted, but she would still be the most elegant thing in the room.

She reminded me of Pearl.

We reached the final road, and the mansion came into sight, the water in the background. The sun was already setting, and a beautiful sunset acted as the background. Like the sun was saying goodbye just to her, it slowly sank over the horizon.

Tristan’s men were stationed outside, their eyes on the car as I pulled up. I turned into the roundabout but purposely stayed parked a good distance away, giving her space as long as possible. The men spoke into their mics, telling Tristan we were there.

Adelina stared out the window before she looked at me, somehow looking more beautiful than she ever had before. Her brown hair fell perfectly around her shoulders, and her bright eyes glowed softly. All the bruises she’d had faded away shortly after she stayed with me. Now her skin was soft and flawless. She looked like a beautiful woman who belonged in a mansion with a diamond tiara on her head. She should be at home with a husband and children, enjoying a life where she could experience old age with joy.

She shouldn’t be here.

But saying all of that would make it worse.

I said the only thing that would mean something to her. “I admire you.”

Her eyes softened slightly.

“You’re so brave.”

She squeezed my hand. “You make me brave.”

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “It doesn’t matter what they do to you. They can’t take your mind, your heart, or your soul.” My hand moved over her chest where her heart was beating fast. “So keep being brave.”