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“It's sad. She didn't even get a funeral or a service or anything. They just took her body to the funeral home, and she was cremated by some shady guy who was paid under the table.”
I doubt she had anybody in her life willing to attend a service. Tatum, maybe. I would've gone with her for support. Otherwise?
Still, memorials, funerals, celebrations of life, they're a sense of closure for the living and that's something she'll never get. “I could always put something together for her. Maybe scatter a handful of her ashes somewhere she loved to go.”
Tatum snorts, “Like I would know where that is. She never told me anything about herself. I don't even know why I care so much. It's not like she cared about me.”
“She was your mom, babe. I'd be worried if you didn't care.” I place a hand on her shoulder.
“I know she got what she deserved.” She wraps her arms around herself—jeez, she's so thin, she needs to eat more—before hitting me with a knowing, almost angry look. “And before you tell me one more time to talk to a professional, how am I supposed to talk about any of this? Gee, doc, my mom set it up so my best friend would get kidnapped. She wanted to ruin my father's life and help his enemy take control of his illegal businesses. Only she had her brains blown out, instead. Oh, and surprise, she couldn't even have a funeral because the whole damn thing needs to be kept a secret.”
Okay, when she puts it that way, I can see why she's hesitant to talk with a doctor. “Okay, so you don't have to talk specifically about that,” I murmur while a narrator drones on about the details of a grisly murder. “But you should at least talk about Kristoff and what happened in Europe. I'm not saying to go into specifics about how your mom died, either. You can talk about, you know, how strained your relationship was and—”
“Look, I get it. Okay? You don't have to beat a dead horse.”
“I wasn't trying to.” I've already pushed too hard. Damn it. There is no winning with her.
Her gaze flicks over my dress. “Did you have a good time tonight?”
“Yes, we went to dinner.” I smile, though it feels strangely awkward to be doing so.
“That's good. It must have been a nice place if you're so dressed up.”
“Your dad bought the place out for the night to ensure nobody else was there. Can't take any chances.”
“No, you wouldn't want to do that. Not with the baby and everything.”
I want to crawl out of my skin, I'm so uncomfortable. On the surface, there's nothing wrong with what she's saying, but I know her too well to be fooled. There's resentment dripping from every word; all I want to do is tell her I'm sorry. I'm not even sure what I'm sorry for or what it is that's really bothering her. Is it the baby on the way, the fact that I happen to be the baby's mother? The fact that I'm happy while she's sinking lower and lower? Maybe all of it combined.
I'm sure she wouldn't give me a straight answer even if I asked. I would have to be brave enough to ask first, which I'm definitely not. Not even close.
“Do you want to have a girls' day maybe tomorrow?” I probably know the answer already, but I have to try. “Maybe we could go shopping.”
She cringes, “For baby stuff?”
“I was actually thinking more like clothes, and you know it's been a while since I went to the bookstore.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip almost nervously. “I don't know. People and crowds mixed with me don't seem that appealing right now.”
“Then we can hang around the house. Whatever makes you comfortable.” The air is thick with tension, and I can feel her pulling away from me, but I don't want to let go. I can't.
“I don't need you hovering over me, all right? I'm just fine here, in my room, not bothering anyone. What's the big deal?”
“There's no big deal,” I whisper. “Just, you know, I'm here. And I want to see you and spend time with you. I love you. You know that, right?”
Her head bobs up and down, only there's no light in her eyes when she finally looks at me. “I know. I love you, too.”
Right now, that's probably as good as it's going to get. “Okay. I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“You know where to find me.” I want to say something else—anything, so long as we don't leave things like this. But the moment is over too soon. She turns up the volume on the laptop, drowning out whatever I was wanting to say.
What bothers me the most as I leave the room, closing the door on her misery, is knowing I would've sailed straight up the stairs with Callum and not thought about her at all if it hadn't been for Romero popping up.
I can't blame her if she does hate me, but I also can't help her if she doesn't want me to, either. It's a double-edged sword piercing me through the heart whenever I think about her.
CALLUM
“We have to decide how you want to divide the Moroni businesses—if we do it at all.”
