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With a sigh, Grayson took the plate and walked back to the main area, where Lucy was plucking dead flowers out of a bouquet. She was wearing a matching knit sweater and skirt, both in a shade of baby pink, and he set the plate of food down on a table with a clunk.

“Your best friend is acting like a child,” Grayson told her, irritated. He sat down, sighing. “Go talk to him, get him to eat.”

Lucy’s hands paused between the flowers, and she looked at him closely, brown eyes inspecting. For a second, he thought she would yell at him for taking that tone when talking about Charles, but instead, she cocked her head to the side.

“You’re angry with him,” she said, a statement, not a question.

Grayson startled at her words. “No, I’m not,” he said. “Just a little impatient—but it’s not his fault, I know. He didn’t sleep well; he’s allowed to be a little cranky.”

“No, in general,” Lucy said, shaking her head. She went back to examining her flowers, not looking at him, which made it easier to hear what she had to say. “It’s just something I’ve noticed. I think you’re angry with him, which is why you get so impatient and cross.” She looked up at him then. “Why, though?”

Deep down, he knew she was right, and he knew why, too.

Pain spread across his chest, and he pressed his lips together, jaw clenching.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Lucy said, taking out the last of the dead flowers. She set the bouquet back in place in its vase. “But you should talk to him about it. Might help clear the air and bring you closer.”

Grayson took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes. “Ugh.”

“I know. Building a relationship is unfortunately a lot of work.” She paused. “Honestly, I’m surprised you guys haven’t talked already. You’ve been here for a while.”

“It may seem like that to you, but it’s different for me,” Grayson said. “I’ve spent more than two decades burying every thought or emotion I’ve had about Charles, so three months doesn’t feel long at all. I’ve been trying to build a base relationship with him first before digging into the painful stuff.”

“That’s fair,” she said. “It takes time, but you and Charles are at a good place, from what I’ve seen. You should talk to him. You’re clearly upset about something, and the only way forward is to cross that bridge.”

“It hurts,” he said, voice quiet. “But I know I need to speak with him—I’m not going to be here for much longer, just a few more months.”

His sabbatical would end, and he would return to Ireland, to his job and his half-lived life. The prospect wasn’t one he had thought of much. It still felt far away.

Lucy walked over and touched a hand to his shoulder, squeezing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently. He looked up at her.

“He sent me away,” Grayson said, looking down. “He didn’t want me.”

Lucy moved her hand, touching his cheek. He turned to face her. “From what I know, that’s not true,” Lucy said. “What makes you think that?”

“If he wanted me, wouldn’t I have been here, with him?” Grayson asked. Lucy frowned, unsure, and for the first time, Grayson had doubts of his own.

Maybe it was finally time to speak with Charles. He thought about it all day. Lucy was right. He and Charles were a bit stuck in their relationship now. They were polite and friendly, but not where he wanted them to be.

So that night at dinner, as they sat at the table eating steak and steamed vegetables, he played the words in his head, what to say, how exactly to say it. As he practiced them, his chest hurt, tears pricking his eyes.

Even after he knew what to say, he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. They were lodged in his mouth, and he couldn’t get them out.

Until after they finished eating, and it seemed Charles was going to retire.

“Wait,” Grayson said, gathering his courage.

Charles had already gotten up, but he sat back down. “Yes?”

Grayson’s throat clogged, his lower lip trembling.

“Why didn’t you want me?” he asked, blinking fast as his eyes stung. Charles was stunned. Grayson continued, the words pouring out. “You sent me away, and they didn’t want me, either. I had no one—nothing—and you replaced me with Lucy, and you had Grandma, but I had no one.” His voice broke. “I—I never wanted to go.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles said, still dazed from Grayson’s words. “I thought— We thought it would be better for you to have a change of scenery, with all the trouble you were getting into at school. The doctors said it might be better for you.”

“I had just lost my parents,” Grayson said, shaking his head. “I was upset and grieving—of course I was angry. Of course I was getting into trouble with the other kids! I needed you to be patient with me, but the first chance you got, you washed your hands of me. You never called, you never visited—you never wanted me.”