What happened in Vegas - English version

Chapter 48

It was five months ago this morning. Five months in which a lot changed. I met Alec's family that same day. His siblings, who received me warmly in their illustrious circle, as Jace put it. Clary is a real sunshine with her everlasting smile. Only Simon is still a bit strange to me. But his wife Isabelle likes me a lot. To Alec's delight. I could tell that it meant a lot to him. The bond between the siblings is strong. Alec's parents didn't make it that easy for me, though. My father-in-law was sitting with his ex-wife, my mother-in-law and her new husband in the garden by the rose bushes and were silent. Just like us.

Alec's mother introduced herself as Mrs. Herondale and his father just nodded his head. I felt more than uncomfortable and Alec looked like he was about to throw up. Mr. Herondale was the only one who was acting halfway normally. At least that's what he tried. It quickly became clear that a new ice age had broken out. Because the mood between us was more than hypothermic and Stephen tried to bring some warmth into this environment. By offering me you. Then he wanted to spend a round, but we declined with thanks. A little later my father-in-law just got up and left the garden. It was the last time I and Alec saw him. Maryse tries to keep in touch with her children. But the distance doesn't make it easy.

Our everyday life is more positive than I thought at the beginning of this whole drama. Alec works a lot and so do I. His days are long and every night he comes home and disappears into the shower. Then we eat together and talk about our day and the latest political developments, the weather or simply a good book. Sometimes a bad one. Once a week Alec eats alone without me. Because there is my evening with Raphael and Andrew. Occasionally Ragnor joins us and together we indulge in memories of long forgotten times.

When I get home on these evenings, Alec is already asleep and this is our sex-free evening. At some point, over the past few months, sex has become an essential nightly ritual. Often it is the highlight of my day. It will be the same today. Today is one of those days that start badly and usually end badly. But not for me. Because tonight, I'll still have sex. With my extremely attractive and muscular roommate. The thought of Alec's well-trained body, the play of muscles and tendons under my fingers and his tongue licking wet and greedy over my heated skin is a wonderful distraction from the boring editorial meeting in which I am stuck again. Once a month all journalists who fight for the best headlines every day meet with our editor Mr Wayland and the owner of this newspaper, Mr Sebastian Verlac. My employer. And today's monthly meeting is the boringest in a long time. To the chagrin of everyone present, Mr Verlac likes to hear himself talk. His blue eyes are unnaturally large and the blond hair, gelled back, sticks to his head. That makes his face look even narrower and the damp, shiny spit mark on his lower lip doesn't necessarily make him more attractive. But what can I say, he's a really nice guy. Even if it doesn't necessarily make that impression at first glance. The suit he wears is guaranteed to cost a fortune and once again I find that I like men in tuxedos better. The coffee is now cold and also tastes horrible. Nothing compared to the wonderfully aromatic hot drink from the country hotel. Much to my regret, my supply of nerve food has long been used up. After I casually told Alec about my addiction to liquorice snails, he puts a bag of the wonderfully sticky black delicacies in my backpack before every editorial meeting. And with it a small piece of paper with a smiling smiley on it. It's his way of wishing me a good day. I love these days. I quickly got used to such little things.

Also today there was a bag of liquorice snails and a note in my backpack. Again it was a smiley that smiled at me. But something was different than usual. And I knew immediately what it was. The smiley had devil horns and not a friendly smile. More of a dirty grin and I've been wondering what that means all day. And when the day is about to act weird, the coronation comes in through the door and sits down on the chair across from me. Sighing, I put my hands on the tabletop and am about to pick the last dry biscuit from the plate. However, the universe really doesn't seem to be well with me today. Mark pulls the plate towards him with a jerk and grabs the last biscuit. I stare at him with an expression of disbelief. Mark lets the biscuit disappear into his mouth with a diabolical grin on his face and chews slowly and long before he swallows the mushy mass. Right now he's reminding me of Alec's smiley face. Mark Blackthorn loves his brother more than anything. For him he would go through hell and back. Unfortunately, neither of them understand my language. Neither Mark nor Julian. After Julian had left the first phase of his grief behind, he made it his business to annoy me. He wrote me several messages apologizing for his behavior at the barbecue. He was so sorry and believed him. But that wasn't enough. Julian wanted me. And he didn't give up. Until one day I pulled the emergency brake and called him. He howled into the phone for what felt like hours, I rolled my eyes in annoyance and pulled my hair. He kept saying how much he loved me. But it didn't change my decision and the breach of trust. I lost patience and before I knew it, I threatened to send my husband and his extremely tall and muscular brother over for a clarification. Julian just hung up and I never heard from him again. Since then, Mark hates me even more than he already did.

I ignore it. Because I just don't care. I don't care about Mark. With a booming skull and the annoying beeping voice of my boss in my ear, I leave the publishing house late at night. It is already dark and the cold hand of winter lies painfully on my skin. The navy green parka is clearly too thin for this time of year. Fine drizzle falls from the dark clouds above me. At least I suspect they are dark. The sun has already retired to its night camp and the moon cannot be seen this evening. I walk the last few meters from the subway to my house and yet my legs are not fast enough to escape the masses of water. Meanwhile it started to pour out of buckets and that reminds me of our afternoon in Central Park. With the difference that the cool rain was pleasant on our skin, which was warmed up by the summer heat. Now it feels like thousands of fine pinpricks. And with every step closer to my home, the fabric on my body gets soaked. The jeans are already sticking uncomfortably to my legs and the boots only let the water splash in all directions when I step into the puddles. The hood of my parka only protects me to a limited extent. Gusty wind ensures that the already too thin fabric is blown off my head again and again. I hate holding the hood tight while I'm running. It's just water. Then my hair will just get wet. The rest of me is already soaked to the bone anyway. Running prevents my body temperature from dropping to infinity and my teeth chattering from finally reaching my goal. Actually, I actually got a little warm and yet I'm looking forward to a hot shower and my hot roommate. As I step into the hall of my house, I am greeted by cozy warmth and the smell of fresh mushrooms roasted with bacon and chives is in the air. Alec cooked. A smile automatically falls on my face and the knowledge that he has fried bacon especially for me makes my heart beat faster. Muffled music comes through the ajar door to me. I quickly get rid of the completely soaked jacket and my shoes. Even if Alec doesn't like the fact that I distribute my clothes all over the house, I just drop my jacket on the floor and pull my wet pants off my legs. Everything sticks and feels just gross. The skin is slightly cold and the sweater feels more clammy than cozy and warm. I take this off too and am just about to open the door to the living area when a familiar melody freezes my movement.

A memory from the farthest corner of my subconscious hits me unexpectedly and violently. It feels like the boulder from Central Park is moving towards me at breakneck speed. It hits my body with full force and pulls the ground away from under my feet. I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the music. The telltale tug in my chest strangles my air and I try to concentrate on not losing my mind. Bitter bile rises in me and the tears push painfully and unasked to the surface. I hear Alec's deep voice, taste the salty aroma of his sex-soaked skin on my tongue and the intoxicating aroma of rum and endorphins. "All alone in the black light Your look like behind glass. Drifting blurred through the room As if flying blind ... "Alec sings this one song and wet tears run unhindered down my heated cheeks. I shiver, I'm incredibly cold and I cling to the doorknob, gathering strength to enter the room and face my demons The sight of Alexander makes me infinitely sad and I have the feeling that I can no longer breathe.