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I laugh through my tears, my heart warming. “We spent the entire weekend trying to decipher what people were saying — it definitely was English, but neither of us could understand a word, and for weeks after, she’d imitate the accent, making me laugh each and every time. For years after, she’d saymilkthe way they do there, and I’d giggle in response. That’s what she did — she inspired joy in everyone around her.”
Tears run down my face, and I draw a shaky breath as I put away the speech I’d prepared, feeling like a fraud. I’d planned to do what I did for Lily when she missed her mom, and talk about my favorite memories with her. I’d wanted to share parts of her that only I knew about, but I don’t have it in me today. “In more ways than one, Lily saved me,” I tell the crowd instead, my voice breaking. “I just wish I could’ve saved her in return.”
I step back and shake my head, unable to keep standing here like I have any right to be here, to talk of our memories together like I don’t desecrate the memory of her every single day. I bite down on my lip and shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I can’t do this.”
I stumble back and hesitate for a beat, before walking away, knowing Lily wouldn’t want me to speak when I did exactly what she feared I would. I keep my eyes on the church’s doors as I take one step after the other, needing to get away.
“Celeste!”
I turn back to find Lily’s father rushing after me, and I pause right next to my car, even though I struggle to face him.
Raymond reaches for me, his hands trembling as he wipes away my tears. “She loved you more than anyone else, Celeste. She wouldn’t want to see you this way.”
My vision is blurry as I glance up at him, wishing I could latch onto the hope his words instill in me, but I know they’re merely meant as consolation, not an ounce of truth to them. I force a smile, even as more tears run down my face, my lungs burning.
“Sweetheart,” he says, his tone hesitant. “I think there’s someone you should meet.”
ChapterSeventy-Nine
Celeste
I stare up at the commercial building Raymond asked me to meet him at, my body heavy with grief. It isn’t just the memorial, and the guilt I’m feeling toward Lily. It’s Zane too. I’ve barely seen him since he walked away from my birthday dinner. I’d have thought forgiving him would be a step forward, but it seems like we’ve gone back to the way we were when we first got married. Except, perhaps, a little worse. Back then, he at least gave me his attention in the form of hatred. Now he just avoids me entirely. When we’re in the same space, he acts overly cordial, keeping as much distance between us as possible. It feels like I lost him all over again, and I can’t understand why.
It hurts, but it infuriates me too. It took all of me to forgive him, to set my pride and morals aside to ask him for another chance, only for him to reject me so wholly. I’ve never felt so scorned, so heartbroken. Back when I lost Lily, the betrayal had been numbed somewhat by the force of my grief, and I’d been able to hide behind my anger and my plans for revenge. This time there’s nothing but heartache and questions he won’t answer.
“Celeste,” Raymond says, his expression weary. He looks down when he reaches me, his body language conveying defeat.
“Hi,” I say, forcing some cheer into my voice. “I had a look at the building, but there are countless offices in there. Where are we going?”
I haven’t even had the energy to wonder who it is Raymond wanted me to meet. There’s so much on my mind already there’s barely any space for more. I almost didn’t show up today, desperate to leave the past behind, only for guilt to surge through me when I realized how incredibly selfish I’ve become.
“You’ll see,” he says, leading me into the building. “This… it’s hard for me, Celeste. I hope you understand I just wanted there to be one person in this world who only ever saw the best parts of her.”
I frown as I follow him into the elevator, my anguish increasing when I notice how hard his hands are shaking. The numbers on the screen move up, and the closer we get to our floor, the more anxious Raymond seems to get. His breathing becomes more shallow, and he doesn’t seem to know where to look. It makes me nervous in a frantic, fearful kind of way.
He hesitates when the doors open, his gaze traveling over my face as he takes a deep breath and nods, seemingly more to himself than to me. His steps are slow as we walk into what appears to be a clinic of some sort, almost like he wants to delay the inevitable.
Confusion washes over me as we’re greeted by a middle-aged woman in a suit, her shoulder-length blond hair perfectly straight. “You must be Celeste,” she says, smiling as she gestures toward her office. “Please, come in. I’m Dr. Black.”
I glance at Raymond, whose expression is unreadable as he joins me in Dr. Black’s office. “Celeste,” he says, his voice soft. “Dr. Black was Lily’s psychiatrist. I’ve given her my consent to share all of Lily’s medical data with you. There’s a lot you didn’t know about Lily, and she never wanted you to find out, but I can’t in good conscience keep this hidden from you.”
I take a seat opposite Dr. Black’s desk, my mind reeling. “Lily mentioned having a psychiatrist when she was younger, because she found it so hard to deal with her mother’s death. I know about that.”
Raymond’s expression falls, and he sits down next to me, remorse flashing through his gaze. “It’s not that simple,” he says, his tone reluctant. Raymond nods at Dr. Black, the two of them exchanging looks of understanding.
“Celeste,” Dr. Black says, her tone sharp. “Lily suffered from borderline personality disorder.” My eyes widen in shock, and Dr. Black smiles tightly, her expression matter-of-fact, like she didn’t just tell me something that can’t possibly be true. “It developed after she lost her mother, but most of the time, it was manageable. She often had intense emotions, and when she was tired or overworked, she suffered from paranoia and dissociation. Lily wasn’t able to manage her emotions very well and lacked the ability to reassure herself like you and I can. Sometimes, we’re able to say to ourselves that we’re having a bad day and shake it off, but she couldn’t. It often led to impulsiveness, anxiety, and depression that she tried to keep hidden from you, because she feared losing you.”
She grabs a folder and opens it, like she needs to refresh her mind, like Lily was merely one patient out of many. I grit my teeth to keep from snapping at her, irrational anger overtaking me. Is this supposed to be an attempt to explain why she took her own life? Is this Raymond’s way of telling me it wasn’t my fault, when he can’t possibly understand what really happened?
“Lily struggled to form emotional connections after the fear of abandonment she developed due to the loss of her mother, but you were one of very few exceptions. She was never particularly interested in the hospitality industry, but she decided to become an interior designer because you’d opted to become a hotelier. That’s not uncommon for those with BPD. They often don’t have strong feelings about their goals, values, or beliefs, and instead take cues from their environment. In Lily’s case, that was you.”
I suck in a breath when she pushes an open folder toward me, showing me Lily’s diagnosis. Seeing it doesn’t make it any easier to believe it. “I’d have known,” I tell her, my voice weak. “If this was true, I’d have known. Lily loved drawing, and she… she started to draw interiors when we were still in high school.”
Raymond looks at me and shakes his head. “I didn’t know the extent of it either. When she came of age, I was no longer able to access her medical records, and she led me to believe she’d gotten better. I didn’t find out until weeks after she passed, and by then, you’d already left town.”
Dr. Black throws me a sympathetic smile that makes me feel even worse. Denial washes over me, and I shake my head, unwilling to believe there could be something so significant that Lily kept from me.
“When Lily started her first real job, her workload was heavier than she was used to, and it heightened her unstable emotional state, eventually resulting in erotomania and delusions of reference on top of her BPD.”
