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His hands rested on my hips and he landed a gentle but purposeful kiss on my lips. My body melted into him ever so slightly.
He lifted his hand to stroke my jaw, eyes glittering with a thousand things that were impossible to decipher without coffee.
“Mornin’, baby,” he murmured, lips close to mine.
“Good morning.”
“Hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
His eyes flared with my response and the hand that was still at my hip tightened. Then he caught himself, most likely remembering his grandmother was at the breakfast bar, shamelessly watching the exchange. He stepped back and pointed to the seat beside Harriet.
“Sit,” he ordered.
Any other morning, I would’ve stayed exactly where I was and shot something sarcastic to him for ordering me around.
This was not any other morning.
So I sat.
Harriet’s hand landed on my thigh and squeezed for a second, then it was gone. A show of support. Comfort, but not pity.
My eyes watered as they met hers.
“Coffee.”
Duke held out the mug, and I was so thankful for the caffeine and the interruption. The last thing I needed to do was sob all over this moment.
I took the mug and my fingers brushed Duke’s. Sparks spread from my hand all the way to my toes. It was insane to still have this reaction to a man I knew so intimately. Or maybe it wasn’t.
Conversation flowed easily throughout breakfast, and no one mentioned the elephant in the room. We weren’t ignoring it, per se, just maneuvering carefully.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Duke asked after the food was finished. His hands were at my neck and eyes searched mine. He was probing for weakness, for the sign that I was apt to break down and do something crazy like run off into the wild and get eaten by a bear or something.
“I’m sure,” I said, hopefully with no crazy in my eyes.
He frowned, inspecting me. It was as if he didn’t want to leave, not just because of the obvious, but because of last night. Maybe it was as life-shattering for him as it was for me.
But those three words lingered between us. Mine said, his unsaid.
Duke leaned down to press his lips to mine. “I’ll have my phone. Harriet or Mom can call me if you need anything, if you need me to come back—”
“I’m not going to need you to come back,” I said. “As sweet as the gesture is, I need to…just deal.”
Duke lingered close for a moment—too close for me to breathe—and close enough for me to grasp his shirt and beg him not to leave, beg him to love me.
But he stepped back, saving both of us.
He glanced to Harriet. “Take care of her.”
“She’s capable of taking care of herself, but I’ll hang out anyway,” she replied in true Harriet fashion. Duke shook his head and grinned. He kissed my forehead, then hers, and he left.
“Okay, if any day calls for a Twilight movie marathon, it’s this day,” Harriet declared once the front door to the cabin closed. “Well, any given day is a great day for a Twilight movie marathon, but I think today is most important.”
I raised my brow. “A Twilight movie marathon?”
“What? Do you not think that watching a move about vampires, werewolves, and the struggle between wanting to screw someone and suck them dry isn’t the perfect thing? I’ll make margaritas, of course, because you’re allowed to drink them at eight in the morning when you’re going through something like this. You’re a grown-ass woman, so you’re allowed to drink them whenever. You get my point.”
I smiled. It was weak and shaky, but it was a smile. My eyes watered with the thought that Andre would totally approve of such a way to grieve. He was a Twihard from way back.
A single tear trailed down my cheek.
Harriet stepped forward and wiped it from my face. She cupped my face.
“Grief is a funny thing, sweet girl,” she said. “It’s about the worst thing a human can feel but it springs from the very best thing we feel. Love.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“I would like to say I have some wisdom about death,” she said. “I’m surely old enough to know it well, to feel it creeping up on me. But no matter how old you are, no matter how many times you brush it, meet it, stare at it in the damn face, you’re never familiar with it. No amount of pretty words can soften its blow, no amount of bullshit can salve the wounds it leaves. You’ve just gotta experience it, weather it best way you know how. I’ll tell you this, though. You always come out the other side. A little different than before, sure. But you will come out.”
12
One Month Later
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” Duke said.
“Okay, I’ll try not to set myself on fire or anything in the interim,” I replied.
