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I tiptoed toward the stairs but barely made it a few feet when a deep, authoritative voice said, “It’s past curfew. Where were you?”
I held a hand to my chest, my heart pounding. “Crap on a cracker. You startled me.”
I frowned into the darkness, my eyes needing a moment to adjust. A light flicked on, and I spotted Tristan sitting on the couch. Drink in hand. For a moment, I wondered if he’d been waiting for me. The idea sent a thrill through me, but I quickly pushed it aside.
He’s mourning his wife, you idiot.
I’d avoided the cemetery on the anniversary of Tessa’s death, wanting to give Tristan the space he needed to grieve. But seeing him now, I realized I didn’t want to be alone. I dropped my bag at the foot of the stairs then took a seat on the couch.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said.
I waved a hand through the air. “No. It’s not that.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong?” When I shook my head, he said, “Ellie, you know you can talk to me.”
My bottom lip quivered. I felt so raw. Like someone had cracked me open and spilled my insides.
But I didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, I held out my hand. “Can I have some?Please.”
His brown eyes were filled with concern. “If I say yes, will you talk to me?”
“Yes,” I croaked.
With a deep sigh, he placed his glass in my hand. I took a deep gulp, the whiskey burning as it slid down my throat. Making me feel more alive. He gave me a moment then I handed the glass back, our fingers brushing in the process. I knew he expected me to explain, and he wouldn’t ask again.
Finally, I took a deep breath and said, “Sometimes, I think being in Australia allowed me to ignore reality. Allowed me to pretend she wasn’t really gone.”
Tristan ran a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I think about escaping. Leaving and going somewhere that we could pretend this never happened.”
“But…”
“But I know that no matter where we go, we will always feel the loss. And I can’t change it. And I hate that I can’t fix that for them.”
I knew what he meant. Sometimes it was so heartbreaking to watch the kids. To know how much they missed their mom. Tristan and I could love Maddox and Savannah—and we did—but we could never replace that bond between mother and child.
Instead of telling Tristan that, though, I blurted, “I should’ve come home sooner,” regret forcing the words from my mouth. I didn’t need pressure from my mom to feel guilty about missing the funeral. I already felt terrible.
Yet my mom couldn’t seem to let it go. It wasn’tmyfault that the flight had been diverted to Hawaii after a mechanical issue had deemed the plane unsafe to continue flying. By the time I’d managed to get another flight, it was too late. The funeral had already taken place, and if I hadn’t returned to Melbourne, I would’ve missed my finals. Then Mom would’ve blamed me for that too.
Even so, I could’ve come home sooner. Not just for the funeral.
But now, I wondered if I’d been avoiding it. Reality. The truth. The pain. “I hate that I didn’t come one more time before—” My voice cracked on the last word, and I gave up trying to speak for the moment.
Tristan placed his hand on mine. “You’re here now.”
“Even so…”
“Liam punched Bennett,” Tristan announced, leaning forward to place his glass on the coffee table. I missed his touch instantly. “Here at the house, after the funeral.”
My eyes went wide. Liam punched one of his best friends at his other best friend’s wife’s funeral? Whoa. I couldn’t even imagine it. I mean, it seemed out of character for Liam. “What? Why?”
“Because he found out Bennett had been sleeping with Wren and lying to him about it.”
“Ooh.” I winced. “Wow.Escándalo.”
Tristan laughed. “No joke.”
“But Liam’s cool with it now?” I could tell he was happy for his sister and his friend, even if he didn’t want to hear about their sex life.
