CHAPTER 6
LOCHLAN
I come herewhen I need to remember the man I refuse to be.
The cemetery is quiet this time of day. The sun drops low, shadows stretching over the headstones. I park at the bottom of the hill and walk up, just like always. It gives me time to get my head right.
Mom’s grave is simple. White marble headstone with clean lines. She’d have hated anything flashy.
EILEEN MAEVE MOLLOY
BELOVED MOTHER
2015
No “beloved wife.” I made sure of that when I ordered the stone. Dad didn’t fight me on it, either. Dick that he is. He probably didn’t even notice.
I pull out the wilted, brown tulips from the little metal holder and place a bunch of fresh yellow ones in their place. Staring at the dead flowers as I toss them into the nearby trash can, a pang assaults my heart.
I should come more often.
“Hey, Mom.”
My voice sounds rough. I clear my throat.
“I’ve got some news. You’re not gonna like it.”
The early evening breeze whispers across my skin. Trees rustle overhead. I take that as a sign that she wants me to keep talking.
“So… I’m getting married. Not by choice, though. It’s Dad’s doing.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Shocking, I know. Eamon Molloy, manipulating his kids for power. Like we never saw that coming.”
I sit back on my heels and clasp my hands together.
“Her name’s Adriana. Adriana DiMicheli. She’s…” My voice trails off, and suddenly I’m back in her conference room again remembering the way she walked in like she owned the place. Because she did. I think back to how she laid out her terms like she was closing a billion-dollar deal instead of signing her life away.
And then an image of her almost-smile pops into my mind. I pulled that out of her.
“She’s something else, Mom. Smart, tough, doesn’t take shit from anyone.” I pick at a blade of grass. “You’d like her. Or maybe you’d tell me I’m in over my head. Probably both.”
I stand up and circle the headstone, not talking. Just breathing. Letting my reality sink in.
This is the only place I feel close to her anymore. The house is Dad’s. The business is Dad’s.
But this spot? This is hers. And mine.
I settle onto the bench in front of the stone.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. Then it buzzes again. And again.
I pull it out. Five texts from Gavin.
Where are you, Loch?
Answer your phone.
I swear to God!
Tracked your location. Waiting for Uber.
