I tell him about my call with Mirabel.
He chuckles, shakes his head. “Again, that woman’s a piece of work. I get that a tanked garden business and ladies’ fistfight would be embarrassing to all parties involved, but the secrecy about something that happened forty years ago—it’s wild.”
“I’m just trying to swallow all this. I mean, I’ve been in this family for fifteen years. I’ve never heard of these people or these stories, and I’m sure Philip hadn’t.”
“I get it. Welcome to the South, where batshit families like to keep their secrets close to their chests. Don’t worry, though, Lizzie, I’m going to keep digging.”
We’re quiet. I’m suddenly self-conscious. I’m still wearing my black pajama set, hair pulled up in a messy bun. I’m propped up in my bed with pillows, the lamplight not exactly flattering my image on the screen. Also, I should have thought this through more. Is FaceTiming from bed provocative? Awkwardly, I play with the jet necklace.
He clears his throat. “How’re you doing, Lizzie?”
We’re back at the wedding reception bar. But this time he’s checking in on me.
The grief bubbles up, and I can barely speak.
“Not well. It’s not just that Philip’s dead. It’s that he’s—justnot here.Heathcliff lost another baby tooth. TheHeathcliff Sagaactors are here in London. I had the best homemade lavender scones the other morning. My agent called and there’s another movie and book deal on the table. But Philip... he’s missing it all.”
And then I have to stop because I’m crying.
“I know, Lizzie. I know.” He sighs. “I think of him every day. I went fishing last weekend—just sitting in the boat without him. The silence is the worst.”
He stops, wipes his eyes. Bonnie, sensing his need, lays her head on his lap. I like that he doesn’t immediately pivot to the good things: Heathcliff growing up, the book deal. He’s here, just sitting with me in my grief.
“You know, I always envied what you two had. But Ginger and I—we could never make it work. I kept trying—year after year.”
“I’m sorry, Henry.”
He shrugs. “It had to happen. We just had to rip off the Band-Aid at some point. It is what it is.”
He throws Bonnie’s toy; her collar jangles as she chases after it.
“I miss you, Lizzie.”
I stop playing with the necklace. After several seconds of awkward silence, he clears his throat. “Did I hear you right? Do you have another book and movie in the works?”
“Not quite officially, but yes. A sequel toThe Heathcliff Saga.”
“You don’t say. That’s pretty darn impressive.”
“A PhD in Victorian literature put to good use,” I joke.
He finishes the bourbon. “When you get back—do you think you can come over?”
“I’m... I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Henry.”
“You could bring Heathcliff over too. He’d love to play with Bonnie. I’ll throw something on the grill. It’s just I’d like to spend more time with you... with both of you.”
“I...”
“Think about it, Lizzie.”
“Alright.”
After the call, I sink back into my pillows. Henry and I can talk about Philip seamlessly. He overshadows everything between us. I’m feeling more attached and comfortable with Henry, particularly as we dig into these secrets Philip pursued before his death. But underneath it all, I’m scared by all the connections.
13
Six Years Earlier
