“I don’t know what to say to you.” I feel much less silly than I expected. It’s like they’re here—like they can hear me. And that’s more comforting than I ever imagined it would be. “Dammit, why did you have to die?”
Tears stream down my cheeks, snot reaching my top lip. My chest shakes violently, and I chastise myself for not bringing a tissue. But I didn’t expect to cry.
I wait until the sobs turn to sniffles and my cheeks are hot to the touch. Then I try again.
“I met a guy,” I say, laughing through the tears. “He’s fantastic. I think even you two would have to approve.”
It’s satisfying to know they can’t argue with me about it, or point out a flaw, or tell me I’m wrong. That alone is worth the drive to the cemetery.
“His name is Drake, and he told me he loved me a few days ago,” I say. “And I freaked out. I blame it on you, just to be clear. I don’t really know if that’s fair. I wonder sometimes how distorted my memories of you guys might be. I lost you at nineteen—in the throes of teenage rebellion. Would we have managed to find common ground as adults? Would I have understood you better? Would you have understood me? Because I’m the same girl. I still love art, and chaos, and I have a filthy mouth that you certainly would disapprove of.”
I wipe my face with the bottom of my shirt. Mascara mars the pale purple fabric, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.Looks like I’m going home before going back to the office.
“So here’s the thing,” I say. “My freak-out was because of you. Let’s go with that. But if that’s the case, it’s because that’s all I know. I only know what you showed me growing up, and, let’s face it, that wasn’t someone telling me they love me for funsies on a Saturday night.”
I blow out a breath as the tears begin to slow.
“Audrey says I think of love as something to be earned and as a form of self-protection. It sounded a little whackadoodle at first, but when I thought about it, I realized she’s right. But as I lay in bed last night, missing Drake and wondering how I could un-fuck this situation, I started to wonder—why were you the way you were? Did you two have trauma as children? What caused you to be so cold? To care so much about what everyonethought? Why did you think it was okay to prioritize everything above Lucia and me?”
I wipe my face again and then stand tall. My chest doesn’t shake, and my eyes are dry. The band that’s squeezed my chest for days is finally loosening, and I can breathe.
“Whatever the reason was, it’s no excuse. Your family, your little girls—me and Lucia—should’ve been everything to you.” I take a breath. “But I forgive you. Maybe your decisions were like mine when I screwed up my life, and you were only doing what you know how to do. I have to forgive you. If I don’t, I’m going to be as miserable as the two of you were, and I deserve more than that.”
I watch as a crow lands on a tree branch on the edge of the cemetery. It studies me, its little head cocked to the side, and I wonder how many people it’s watched do the same thing I’m doing.
“Drake and I will have a life together filled with hugs and children and buttons on the floor and hopefully tea in the fridge.” I blink back another round of tears—happy ones, this time. “And if you’re watching from wherever you are, I hope you’re proud of me.” I grin. “If not, that’s okay. I’m proud of myself.”
I press a kiss to the headstone and let my palm linger on the top of it for a few moments. Then I turn on my bare foot, heels dangling from my fingers, and leave.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Gianna
“Are you ready?” Francine asks from my office doorway.
Nope.
I avoid eye contact because I know they’re swollen from crying at the cemetery, and rummage around my desk, presumably to find a notepad and a pen. “Sure. Let me just grab a couple of things.”
Meeting with the Canoodle execs an hour after I cried my eyes out to my dead parents wasn’t how this day was supposed to go. But nothing in these past six weeks went how I thought it would.So I don’t know why I’m surprised.
At least I swung by the house and changed clothes. Going into this meeting with snot on my shirt would’ve been worse.
I find a pad of paper and a pen, then take a quick, hopeful glance at my phone. It’s dark. Drake hasn’t called or texted since this morning, when he told me he was taking Big Ed to the doctor. I know it’s routine, or it sounded that way, but I would still love an update.
Even though I don’t deserve one.
I struggle to breathe as I rise from my chair. I’m still buzzed from the adrenaline of the afternoon and the anticipation of finding Drake. I simultaneously want to beg him for forgiveness and throw up at the realization that I fucking love him. Of course, he won’t hold my behavior against me, but he deserves an apology. I’ve made peace with my parents, talked to Lucia on my way home, and now I need to talk to Drake, and all will be well in my personal life.
I hope.
Now onto my work life, and I have no idea where it’s about to be headed.
“Are you okay?” Francine asks as we move down the hallway.
“Sure. Why?”
