"I tried to make it up to you, but it wasn't enough. I saw it. I would see you staring at her when you thought no one was looking. The sadness and longing on your face was heartbreaking. Even at a young age, I knew she had banished you from her bed. And you still remained faithful to her."
She eased out a breath and tried to stem the tears, blinking furiously. "It was then that I told myself I would never give anyone that power over me. She wore you down, stamped on your heart repeatedly and for that, I hate her."
She pressed a hand on her stomach and could swear she felt movement. "I've made a promise to these babies. Science wouldsay they're not really babies yet, but I disagree. As soon as the sperm touched the egg and starts to reproduce, they represent a life to me. Lives. They're two of them."
"I'm going to love them fiercely. I know what it's like to grow up in the cold. I had a roof over my head, a pretty decent one and food to eat. My clothes were top of the line, and I was given a stellar education and expected to make something good of myself. But the love was lacking."
She paused and swallowed the lump that had lodged inside her throat. A blue jay flew towards a towering oak tree and perched, letting out its call. More people had arrived since she did. People mourning their loved ones.
As far as she knew, her mother had never visited. Never once brought flowers to her husband's grave. She would have argued that there was no point in doing something so foolish and frivolous.
"The man is already dead. Bringing flowers is a perfect waste of time."
"I find myself wondering if she ever loved anyone. You once told me she had a horrible childhood. That she lost her father at a very young age and her mother was an alcoholic. But that does not excuse not loving your husband and child. She was fortunatethat she rose from the situation and became something. Made something of her life."
Feeling the anger rising, she took a steadying breath. Oscar was at the pub, the new one, getting things in order for the grand opening. She had told him she was having lunch with Deborah to talk about the latest project and offer from Netflix.
"I'm an author, Daddy," She turned back to the tombstone as if she could imagine him seated next to her, cheering her on. "I can scarcely believe it myself. Remember how you wanted to become a writer? You would share snippets of what you wrote to me, and I would tell you how very good they sounded."
The midday sun kicked up the scent of the flowers she had brought with her. Drawing her legs up to her chin, she folded her arms around them. "I have money, am seeing a man I love to pieces and carrying his child and yet there's still a part of me that's empty."
"I should be happy and am most of the time. But I miss you so much, Daddy." The tears came then and she did nothing to stop them. "You shouldn't have died. You gave up, forgetting that I was here all alone. She doesn't care about me, you know. I was left to my own device as soon as you were gone."
She sniffed. "She didn't want me. She told me so. What kind of mother tells their child that she's unwanted? A heartless one, that's who."
She clamped her lip between her teeth. "I almost missed out on something wonderful with a fascinating man, because I thought I was incapable of loving anyone. But I cannot give him everything he wants. He's asked me to marry him, but I keep saying not yet."
"I see the look on his face each time I evade or just avoid giving him an answer. It takes something vital away." Pressing a hand to her cheeks, she wiped the moisture away and turned to look at the name etched in marble. Giving the letters one last caress, she rose. "Until next time, Daddy."
If she hadn't been so distracted she might have taken note of the man taking an interest in her activities and discreetly using his phone to snap pictures.
She would have wondered why he trailed her at a distance until she got into her vehicle. But it all slipped by her and the man who had been following her, slipped into his own vehicle and followed her at a distance, always keeping her in sight.
She dashed into the restaurant ten minutes late. She had spent five minutes peering into the mirror to make certain all evidence of her grief had been erased. And the next five on the phone trying to reassure Oscar she was all right and had a perfectly good reason for not answering his three phone calls and follow up text messages.
"I was worried." He told her tersely.
"There's no need." She shot back in exasperation. "My phone was on mute."
"What the hell for?"
"I was composing something in my head. You know how it is when I get an idea."
He had accepted that reluctantly. "I have to know you're all right Kiara. That's non-negotiable."
She had rolled her eyes and promised to keep her phone on.
"I ordered you the mushroom soup." Deborah Hannigan, looking sleek and sophisticated in her trim lime green linen suit, took in the wrinkled cargo pants and oversized white cotton shirtwith something akin to horror before taking a delicate sip of her sparkling water.
"You look like you just tumbled out of bed. Darling, for someone with your kind of money, not to mention the fact that you're involved with a very hot, rich guy, you look like you buy your clothes from a thrift store."
"Water first and some garlic bread." She told the hovering waiter. "Pronto. I'm dying of thirst."
She grinned at her friend as the man went on his way. "This place is lavish. Kelly Takahashi is pitting her decorating styles more and more against her husband and coming up smelling of roses." She shook her head and reached for the mixed nuts in ceramic bowl, scooping up a handful.
"You used to be stylish." Deborah was determined to stay focused. She and Kiara had been friends since high school, the friendship continuing throughout college and university. They had both taught at the same college. Kiara had resigned when she decided she wanted to be a writer.
Deborah had left shortly after to become her agent, never dreaming her friend would become so successful. She would always be grateful to the woman sitting across from her for the chance she had been given.
