Page 98 of You Were Always the One

‘I’m fine.’ I take a deep breath, looking around at the scene of domestic bliss, or as close as I’ve ever come to it, not minding that it isn’t mine; grateful that they’re generous enough to share it with me. I manage a wobbly smile. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’

After a much-needed breakfast with them, as I drive away, I’m thinking about Holly and her family. Wishing I could do something for them. But that’s the thing about grief. There isn’t anything you can do. Loss is as much a part of our lives as love is. At the end of the day, all you can do is let yourself feel it.

Maybe that should be the subject of my next book. The many kinds of love and loss: a hapless man’s guide to grief.

Over the next month, I try to be there for Holly, as she plans the funeral, then after. On the days she wants to talk, others when she doesn’t. Sometimes it’s enough to know someone’s there for you. And some days, she needs to be alone.

With so much going on, there is no rush to talk about the future. But then without her telling me why, I get the sense she’s trying to put some distance between us.

Once, I would have waited to see what happened. But not any more, and I go to see her.

FEBRUARY

34

HOLLY

As he was the night that Miles died, Riggs is there when I need him. But I’m still coming to terms with losing Miles and there are times I need to be alone. It’s one of those times just over a month later, when Riggs comes to the house.

‘How are you doing?’ he asks, his eyes searching mine.

‘OK.’ I pause. ‘I was so grateful to you, Riggs – coming to the hospital that night. And for being there. Since.’

‘It’s nothing,’ he says.

I look at him hesitantly, wanting to tell him everything about the last few weeks. About my children, the funeral. About how our lives are still settling in the aftermath of loss.

‘How are the kids?’ he asks.

I’ve always loved that he thinks about them. ‘Pretty good,’ I say. ‘Of course, they’re upset. But I think a lot of healing took place while Miles was sick.’ I stop myself, realising how that sounds. ‘If you know what I mean?’

‘I do.’ He pauses. ‘I’m glad they’re OK.’

‘How’s Fraser?’ I ask.

Riggs’s face lights up. ‘He’s great. Growing – he needs to. He was tiny.’

‘I’m so pleased for you,’ I say. ‘So are you still planning to stay?’

‘I am.’ He pauses. ‘I haven’t told you – you’ve had other things on your mind. But a lot has changed over the last few weeks. It seems the writing gods have decided they like my words. My last book is being turned into a film.’

My eyes widen. ‘That’s incredible, Riggs. Congratulations.’ Then it comes out without thinking. ‘We should celebrate.’ As I say that, our eyes lock.

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he says. ‘When the time is right.’ Then he takes one of my hands. ‘You know I’m here for you, Holly. And I know you must be going through all kinds of stuff. But I don’t want to let you get away.’

‘Like last time?’ I’m half-joking, half-shocked.

But the light leaves his eyes. ‘Biggest mistake of my life,’ he says simply.

Then he kisses me.

35

RIGGS

Idiot, I berate myself. You shouldn’t have done that. It’s too soon.

With an impulsive, passionate kiss – a kiss that Holly returned, I might add, nevertheless, almost certainly I’ve orchestrated the end of us.