But it’s slightly less hopeless than living without her. Than dropping the connection completely.
And so I don’t go to work, but I write her letters. And I send a generous donation to C.O.R.A. I also talk to Tessa to ensure the bistro is thriving.
I upgrade her dad’s care, so he gets the best his facility can offer. In the absence of Cora, improving her life makes me feel marginally better.
I don’t expect her to thank me. I don’t need that. Infact, I’m half expecting her to give me shit for meddling in her life.
At night, I wonder if I can survive like this for the rest of my life. Or if I should move to the West Coast and try to forget.
Either option feels like a slow death, but at least here, I’m closer to her, and I don’t have an overbearing family interrupting my self-loathing.
I sit on the sofa that still smells like her—or that’s what I believe—and consider ordering a takeout when my phone rings.
I look at the caller ID, and my heart almost jumps through my throat.
“Saar?”
“Just so we’re clear, I still think you’re a despicable piece of shit.”
“Agreed.” I sigh.
“Don’t be cute with me. I also think she really needs you right now.”
“What’s wrong?” I sit up straight, already searching for my keys.
“It’s her dad.”
Chapter 32
Cora
The sun shines for the first time in weeks. It seems so unfair. Shouldn’t it rain at a funeral? Shouldn’t the sky mourn with us?
Tessa sniffles loudly beside me. Dad smiles from his framed photograph next to his coffin. He doesn’t even look like himself. Why did we choose a picture where he is still smiling? Vital. Himself.
Alive.
Ethan’s was the last funeral I had attended. I was heavily sedated just to get through it. I wonder if his other woman was there. He was smiling brightly in his photo as well, the cheating bastard.
It’s been almost ten years, and I forgot grief hurts physically. I fidget in my seat, the minister’s droning an annoying buzz in my head.
How old was Dad in that picture?
The grief, the pain, the void are too overwhelming, so I focus on my irrational anger at the photograph.
Tessa stands up to speak. I gave her the privilege. She asked for it. She said she needs to speak, because she wasn’t there for him as much as she should have been.
I was going to fight her on that, but this loss came on the heels of my other loss… I just don’t have it in me to… exist?
A violent sob leaves my lungs.
And now I’m mad at Xander. For betraying me and for stubbornly clinging to my heart, even if he is no longer in my life.
I can’t deal with all the loss. Another sob breaks free, and Paul squeezes my hand. I jerk away. I don’t want Tessa’s ex-husband to console me.
My niece smiles at me sadly, and I turn back to Dad’s photograph. I can’t cope with everyone else’s sadness. I can’t cope with my own.
People chuckle around me. Tessa must have said something funny. I hug my midriff, the chill raking through my body.
