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“I guess it was eventually going to come out. You knew we couldn’t hide forever.”
“I know. Look, it’s late, and today has left me drained,” she resigns, to then take a deep breath even I can hear over the speaker. “Andy, I need you to be patient with us. Right now, I need to be here with Benedict. Not as his wife, but as his son’s mother.”
Once again, my patience is tested. I know it’s right for her to do this. It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
“Okay,” I mumble.
“Andy, I love you. Please don’t ever forget that.”
I swallow the lump inside my throat, willing my emotions to calm the fuck down because nothing will change our circumstances right now. It was never going to be easy between us, despite our history. We were family first, then became best friends. I owe her the best of me, the man who stood by her side when things got tough.
It’s too late to walk away and to lose patience is to lose the battle.
Just like Dad once told me, letting go for now doesn’t mean it’s forever. Sometimes you need to save yourself first because love can test us in unimaginable ways. It can bring out the worst in us, but it can also bring out the best in us.
All I know is that I love her, and if forever is it for us, I need to learn to step back when the time calls for it.
And that time is right now.
Twenty-Five
Jessa
Two weeks after Rosemarie’s heart attack, she passed away in the hospital.
It didn’t come as a surprise since she refused all treatment, wishing to be left alone to die in peace. Even in her hospital bed, she brought in lawyers to make sure her will was just the way she wanted it, not a single cent spared for anyone she didn’t care for in the slightest.
She planned her own funeral, down to the music and clothes she was to be buried in. Everything was organized, including her final resting place, next to Benedict’s father, who passed away when Benedict was only ten years old from a stroke.
Dad, Kate, Mom, and Jack virtually attended the funeral since Rosemarie only wanted her family and acquaintances inside the small chapel.
Benedict and his brothers took it as well as you would expect. They rose to the occasion, spoke at the chapel with the appropriate words though without the usual sentiment from a child. Then, when she was laid to rest, they paid their respects and said goodbye.
Not once did I see Benedict shed a tear, even though I stood by him the entire day as support.
Rosemarie consumed our thoughts, which left us no time to discuss our marriage moving forward. There was never a right time to raise the topic, but as we sit inside the bedroom after attending the funeral, I need to say something for my own sanity.
Benedict removes his black suit jacket, hanging it up in the closet. We’d slept in separate beds since Bentley’s birthday party, and kindly, Benedict allowed me to sleep in our bed while he took the guest room.
“There’s no right time to bring this up,” I begin with, toying with the black dress’s cuffs. “I was thinking of staying at Dad and Kate’s flat in London.”
I wait for his response, but with his head bowed, I’m unable to see his facial expression.
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely,” I respond with a croak in my voice. “Benedict, I know you just lost your mother, but we can’t continue to pretend everything is fine between us.”
“I know,” he resigns, stilling his movements, but then he begins to unlace his shoes. When he’s removed them, he takes them to his side of the wardrobe, then returns to the room. “I want to see my son.”
“Of course, I’d never take him away. I think London is the perfect compromise. I also thought it might help for me to stay there so I can look for work.”
“You don’t need to look for work,” he informs me with a stern voice. “You’re Bentley’s mother. I’ll take care of you.”
I bite my tongue, wanting to educate him on my capabilities of taking care of myself and where he can shove his goddamn money, but instead, I take a deep breath to calm my elevated pulse.
“I need to work, for me,” is all I tell him.
“If you insist. What about Bentley when you need to work?”
