Paul’s death was so regretted that it took everything from me. Even the intention to feel desire for someone—maybe for the rest of my life. It wasn’t my fault, I suppose, that my most intimate self had thought of blocking me that way.
But there, at my front door, with that man (even if he wasn’t entirely human) standing near the porch, looking at me with such a confident, fang-filled smile and those blue eyes so attentive, so shrewd… I felt it again. I felt something being reborn in me—something I had been refusing to accept for a long time in order to avoid guilt.
I felt it again with an intensity that left me breathless.
When I went to my house with the children, it was naturally impossible to allow myself to feel anything other than the rejoicing of being all together. Of course, gui
