“We’ll put out the air mattress for you. And there’s the couch. It’s very comfortable.” Mom leads Brendon into the kitchen.
“We have a hotel,” he says.
“Nonsense. You’ve been so hospitable this year. Kaylee sent me pictures of her room. It’s beautiful. And I remember your house. This is the least we could do.”
His eyes meet mine. He raises a brow, offering me a chance to object.
I want him here. Fuck, I want him here so badly it hurts. But I want him here as mine. If he’s not…
I don’t know.
God, the sight of his dark eyes and his soft lips is enough to comfort me. To remind me that there are beautiful things in the world. That one day it’s going to be okay.
“You should stay here,” I say. “We have good coffee. Dad’s obsessed.”
He nods. “I’m sold.”
Emma rushes in through the door. She presses it closed behind her, rests her suitcase against it.
She goes straight to me and throws her arms around me. “I’m so fucking sorry, Kay.”
“Me too.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She leans in to whisper. “And I’m sorry my brother is an idiot. He… I think he’s going to come around. But I get it if you don’t forgive him.”
I don’t know what I forgive. I’m not ready to ask myself that yet. I release Emma. “You want coffee?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “You look good.”
“You too.”
She smacks her lips. “It’s not too much?”
“That’s in your vocabulary?” I tease.
Mom laughs. “Your hair is darling, Emma. I wish I could pull that off.”
“You could, Mrs. Hart. Though I think purple would suit your complexion better. There’s this great new brand with smokey colors. The purple would look fierce on you,” Emma says.
Mom laughs. “I’ll think about that.”
Brendon’s eyes meet mine. I’m not sure exactly what he’s saying, only that I want to hear every drop of it.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Kaylee
We go straight to the hospital with Grandma. Brendon and Emma introduce themselves and say hello then they wait in the lobby.
Mom and I stay with her all morning. Dad joins in the evening. We get home, have dinner together, make small talk about nothing, sleep in separate spaces.
It’s like that for days. We spend every minute of visiting hours in the hospital. Emma and I talk all night. Brendon is just there. Waiting for me. Ready for when I need him.
It’s like that all week.
Until Friday.
I wake to Mom standing over my bed, tears running down her cheeks.
I don’t have to ask to know. It’s written all over her face.
Grandma is gone.
The world is a little colder.
A little darker.
A little uglier.
I want to be strong for Mom. So she can fall apart. But I can’t bring myself to leave my bed.
Dad brings me breakfast and tea.
I force myself to brush my teeth. Wash my face.
Then I collapse back in my bed. It whispers of Grandma too. The hot pink sheets. The landline phone in the shape of lips. The boy band posters all over the walls.
She’d want me to celebrate her life, not mourn her death.
And I want to do that.
But it hurts, knowing she’s not here anymore.
That I can never go to her for advice. Or read her another chapter. Or argue about whether or not I’ll call her Gigi.
Emma brings me lunch and dinner. She sits with me as I pour my heart out. Hugs me as I cry.
But I don’t fall apart until the sun sets. Night falls over the house slowly. My room is silent. I can hear my parents go to bed. My mom sobbing. My dad comforting her.
Emma turning on the TV.
Footsteps moving toward my door.
A soft knock.
Brendon’s voice. “Hey.”
“Come in.” I pull the sheets a little higher. I’m not ready to face him, but I need his comfort. It’s confusing. My first thought is that Grandma would know what to do.
But she’s not here.
She’s never giving me advice again.
She…
I choke back a sob.
Brendon steps into my room and presses the door shut behind him.
He lays in my bed behind me. Wraps his arms around my waist and pulls my body into his.
And he holds me as I sob.
As I release every bit of hurt.
I fall apart in his arms.
Even with everything between us, he’s the only person I trust to piece me back together.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Kaylee
I wake up alone.
Even so, the world is a little less cold.
A little less dark.
It hurts a little less, Grandma being gone.
I manage to drag myself out of bed. I brush my teeth, shower, put on makeup, blow dry my hair. I feel better. Not great. But better. Like I can actually face the world.
I pull on an old dress. It’s a little small, but it’s stretchy enough to be comfortable. I’m about to move into the hallway when I see it.
A note on my desk.
Meet me at the boardwalk at noon. I have something to show you.