“I was with him, waiting for the ambulance. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all these weeks, but you didn’t want to listen.”
No, he hadn’t.He’d shut down—that had always been his greatest survival tool.
“He said things.” Celeste took a large swallow of her wine. “When he squeezed my hand, we both knew he wouldn’t make it. He said he loved us.”
“That’s a load of crap.”
“Sebastian!”
“We barely spoke! And you and Dad had the ugliest marriage going, Mom. Do you really expect me to believe love was involved?”
“It was once and now that he’s gone, I can’t stop thinking about him.” Celeste took another long swallow, her eyes misty as she gazed trance-like into nothing. “We may not have always shown it, but we did love each other, and all I want to do now is go back to that summer when we first met.” Celeste sniffed back tears then drank more wine. “‘A passionate love affair is like an explosion.’ I’m not sure where I heard that but it’s true.”
Seb stared wide-eyed at his mother.Who the hell was this woman?She looked like Dr. Celeste Clarke, but she was acting like a lush. A wounded soul spilling her heart out to a barman.
“And he loved you too, Sebastian.”
Oh, please.“Mom, I really don’t need to hear all this. Dad and I were never close. And that’s fine. It happens.”
“I still remember his face when he held you for the first time.”
“Mom …”
“He was so proud of you.”
“Stop!” Seb gripped the counter. “Don’t you think a conversation like this should’ve happened a couple of decades ago? When something could’ve been done about our awful family life. Jesus Christ, Mom. What’s the fucking point?”
“Really, Sebastian!” Wine sloshed out of Celeste’s glass. “Must you use such foul language?”
“Yes,” Seb shouted. “Don’t you think I might’ve wanted to hear this stuff sooner? Like when you left me alone every evening. Like when you or Dad never came to watch me swim.”
“We were busy, we had—”
“Yeah, your work always came first, and you know, Mom, that’s also fine with me. I get it. I understand. Which brings me back to my point. Why tell me now?”
Celeste stared down into her almost empty wineglass. “My grief counselor suggested I address the things in my past.”
“You’re seeing a grief counselor?” Seb almost laughed—until his mother refilled her glass.
“Since your father died, I’ve had trouble sleeping.”
Right. There it was.
Shewas having trouble sleeping.Shewas having the difficult time.Shewanted to address the problem so thatshecould have peace of mind.
Well, fuck that.
Seb stormed out.
Because, yes, dammit—shutting down and walking out had always been his greatest survival tool.
Chapter 30
BrandonHillpark,inBristol city center, was always busy with people chilling out on a sunny summer’s afternoon. Children squealed in the playground, couples relaxed on the grassy slopes, and dog walkers strolled the pathways between the trees. Anonymous and innocuous—and perfect for a secret meeting.
A meeting Helen had never imagined arranging.
She sat on a bench beneath the redbrick Cabot Tower that overlooked the Avon estuary and the Somerset hills on the other side of the valley.
