It wasn't fair.
She wasn't going to let a serial killer who chose not to kill her derail her day. No, she'd do what she'd always done: grieve then look for the silver lining. She had a beautiful apartment, a wardrobe, a pantry that magically restocked itself every time she left the place.
Calmed by the reminder, she left her spot in front of the window. The only thing she didn't have was nature. She found herself missing the ocean and the forest near the Immortals.
Chili pepper lights distracted her. Her step slowed as she neared a booth with an assortment of kitchen décor. The sight of something attainable from her bucket list lifted her spirits.
Deidre bought the lights she'd wanted for years. Logan thought them hideous, and Gabriel had laughed. Screw both men; she was getting her chili pepper lights.
They proved to be the turning point in her day. The painkillers she'd taken kicked in soon after, and she bought ice cream. Her mood improved, Deidre returned to her penthouse with newfound resolve to enjoy the last few months of her life.
She spent a grueling hour putting up the string of red lights in the kitchen and stepped back to admire her work. Proud of herself, she sipped from a glass of wine.
"You little bastards aren't going anywhere," she told them triumphantly, admiring the shoddy combination of tacks, tape and nails holding the strands in place along the wall. The sight of the lights thrilled her, reminded her she needed to stop moping around and live her life like a glowing chili pepper.
Leaning back against the counter, she laughed out loud at her absurd thought. It felt good to laugh after the events of the past week.
"So you meant to do that."
"You're not going to ruin this for me!" Deidre refused to face him and admired her handiwork. "You destroyed my life. Let me enjoy the shattered pieces you left."
As if sensing Death was in the room, the string of lights fell away from the wall on one side.
"You mean the shattered peppers," Gabriel said drily.
She willed herself not to laugh at his joke, but it was hard. He had her kind of humor. There was something else in his voice she couldn't quite place. He was normally tense around her, his frustration clear. Though he always sounded quietly confident, the new note in his voice was one of calm self-assurance.
"They're plastic," she said in a flat tone. "Like your heart."
"Not to interrupt this lover's spat, but I could use a glass of wine."