Phoebe
W ith heavy rain and grey skies, it was the perfect day for a funeral. Once the coffin was in the ground, they all bundled into their cars in a sea of black umbrellas and went on to Cillian’s mum’s house. The door was left open for visitors to come and go as they pleased. There were plenty of corners to hide in, but couldn’t escape the sympathetic smiles. They only made her angry. The cold caused her hand to ache, and her painkillers were wearing off as she stood in the cramped hallway.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine the heartbreak you must be feeling,” Cillian’s cousin Martha said, but couldn’t stop staring at the spinach stuck in her teeth. “We were so looking forward to your wedding—you were perfect together. I can’t believe you aren’t going to be part of our family.”
She sniffled, and offered her a tissue from the table by the stairs.
“It’s a loss for all of us.”
tuned out the rest of her condolences, looking to the couch where Cillian’s mum sat with a tissue pressed to her nose as her extended family comforted her. They talked in hushed tones, and her throat tightened when she recalled the last time she’d seen his mum. It was when they’d told her about their engagement. The urge to turn around and bolt down the hallway became overwhelming.
She interrupted Martha’s rambling. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to check on my brother.”
“Yes, please do whatever you need.” Martha’s sudden embrace stilled her. “Look after yourself. We’re all thinking of you, and please know we don’t believe a word the press is saying. We know you wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Cillian.”
clenched her teeth to stop herself from biting Martha’s head off. Walking away down the small hallway, she kept her head low so no one would stop her to offer their condolences. The crowded kitchen stank of pre-made casseroles and cakes, and nearly brought her breakfast back up.
Out in the garden, she didn’t care about the rain. Down the side of the house, she heard August playing to keep his mind busy in the garage-slash-rehearsal space. It had been their hangout since Cillian’s thirteenth birthday, when he and Nick first decided they were going to start a band.
Opening the door, she expected to find the comfort she needed. Instead, froze as she came face to face with Nick and Helen.
“I’m not leaving!” Helen barked, shoving past Nick. Her voice reached a pitch only dogs could hear.
What the hell was she doing here? hadn’t seen her in the church. From August’s guilty expression as he sat with Axel on the thrifted couch in the corner, she suspected they’d been keeping them away from each other.
She didn’t have time to speak before Helen got in her face. “He loved me. We were together for six months, but he couldn’t tell you. He couldn’t leave you until they released their next album. We both know why he couldn’t.”
’s stomach dropped. Had Cillian told her about their songs? Luckily the others were too caught in all the other horrid stuff she was spouting to take notice.
She couldn’t think with Helen continuing to rant in her face. Shut up, shut up, shut up! Today isn’t about you! clenched her fists.
“Everyone is talking about poor —you killed him. He wouldn’t have been in that car if it weren’t for you, and my child wouldn’t have lost their father. We were going to be a family.”
’s blood ran cold as the sobs dissolved the anger in Helen’s words. Axel was between them in seconds.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Helen snapped as she tried to get around him. “Did you even love him at all? You didn’t shed a tear at the church, not even at his grave.”
An unsettling calmness overcame as she punched her. Helen yelped, holding her hands to her nose. Axel and August didn’t make a move to intervene, too shocked to speak.
Helen stared at her with wide, watery eyes. wasn’t sorry, because now that Helen had shut up, she could breathe, and deliver her message.
“Cillian’s mum wants you all to come in and share some stories.” excluded Helen from the invitation. “A little warning would’ve been nice,” she said to the others, before walking out.
She shook out her left hand. Even if it hurt, it felt fucking fabulous. Today wasn’t the day for Helen to say her piece.
Listening to stories praising Cillian wasn’t something she could tolerate after the altercation, and she found herself upstairs in Cillian’s childhood bedroom. There were still the same movie posters on the wall, his collection of vinyl. His mum hadn’t changed a thing; it felt like stepping into a time capsule, seeing the photos of them on the walls from their school days. Her hair was longer, and Cillian didn’t have any tattoos or piercings yet.
She opened the wardrobe doors and pulled aside some of the clothes he’d left behind when he moved out. Her heart sank as she saw ‘P+C 4eva’ written in sharpie. She ran her fingers over the fading letters on the navy wall and thought of Helen’s accusations: Did you even love him? He was her best friend before he was her boyfriend. She had loved him for nearly half her life, and maybe that was long enough. She wasn’t grieving for the man he’d become but for the Cillian she used to know.
Was he really going to end it? What was the point in proposing if he’d been seeing Helen for so long? She sat with her back to the closet wall, the symbol of their past above her.
“?” Axel had found her. They had never been close, but he had a calmness about him that she appreciated.
“If the others sent you to get me, there’s no way I’m going downstairs to reminisce. I’m afraid of what I might say. His mum doesn’t know about the cheating, and I’m not going to spoil the memory of her perfect son.”
“I’m not here to make you do anything, and I think you broke her nose,” Axel said, sitting on the floor with his back resting against the bed so they were facing each other.
“It wasn’t like it was the original.” She didn’t care about sounding petty. “Questioning someone’s grief is low.”
“I’m not judging.” He shrugged as his eyes flicked to the writing above her head.
“His mum will be pissed that we drew on the walls,” mused, wondering if she would pack up his room. “She could paint over it; our forever is over.”
“How’s your hand?” Axel asked, masterfully changing the subject.
She wished people would stop asking how she was.
“The exercises are helping, even if they hurt like hell,” she said, looking forward to having a little more mobility.
“I meant your punching hand.” He smirked, moving to sit beside her in the small wardrobe. He looked good in all black, and his collar hid most of his neck tattoos.
“It’s fine. Throbbing, but fine. I can’t believe I punched a pregnant woman. I’ve never hit anyone before, I’ve never even wanted to hit anyone before.” The word ‘pregnant’ stung, but there was no avoiding it. At least she knew why Helen was at the funeral. They couldn’t not invite the mother of Cillian’s child.
“I think you get a pass today. She shouldn’t have accused you of not caring.”
“Was she telling the truth? About the baby?” she asked, resting against his shoulder, wanting to be close to someone who didn’t look at her with pity.
“Yes.” Axel brought his knees up to his chest. She noticed his Doc Martens, and wondered if they could be deemed suitable funeral attire. Cillian would’ve appreciated the rebellion. “We only just found out, and Nick was going to tell you once the guests left.”
“Before the will reading? Because she’s in the will?” put two and two together.
Axel nodded, and she appreciated his honesty.
“I can’t tell you whether he loved her or not. He never spoke about her like that. Not with me anyway. To be honest, we assumed it was over when you got engaged. Cillian said he was going to stop drinking. He wasn’t himself when he was drinking.”
“Once is a drunken mistake, six months is an affair.” It was a relief to speak openly with him. “I still can’t believe Cillian proposed knowing he’d got her pregnant. Makes me sick.”
“We wish he’d told us how much trouble he’d got himself into. We knew he’d messed up, just none of us expected it to be this bad. But I do know he loved you in his own fucked up way,” he said, fidgeting with his skull cufflinks.
“You’re being oddly comforting. Why haven’t we talked like this before?” stared up at him, and he chuckled.
“I’ll take that as a compliment—and because Cillian didn’t like it if I got within five feet of you.”
“Yeah, he wasn’t your biggest fan,” she admitted.
He nodded knowingly. “I wasn’t his either, but I still miss him.”
“Me too,” she confessed, picking up a shoebox full of old photos. Instead of taking them as she’d planned, she placed them back under his clothes in the corner.
“You don’t want them?” Axel frowned.
“The man in those photos no longer exists. I’m beginning to think I lost him long before the accident,” she said. “That Cillian never would’ve cheated on me. I was his world; we were a team. At the beginning, he’d call me on tour and fall asleep with me still on the phone. He flew home after a concert in Korea because I had the flu and was stuck in bed. The man in the car… he was just a shadow.” Her heart tightened as she confessed her feelings to the one person she’d least expected to be her comfort.
“Touring, fame—the pressure can twist even the best person,” he said. She hadn’t heard him speak about what they did this way before.
“You seem pretty normal,” she said, “except that you’re allergic to smiling, interviews and social media.” He was the only one in the band who refused to be online.
He shrugged. “I was older when I met the lads.”
“Only by five years. You’re hardly ancient.” She nudged him, and he rolled his eyes.
There was a hint of a smile, and as sexy as his brooding demeanour was, there was a kindness in his smile that made his eyes light up.
“On the road, five years is a lifetime. I’d toured with solo artists and other bands to get my start. Anita thought I’d be a level head since I’d already had my wild years.”
“You were wild?” she said with a smirk, never having even seen him drunk. There’d only been a couple of beer bottles in his tour bus, unlike the others who thought every night was a party.
“You’ve no idea.” His eyes met hers, and something giddy stirred in her. It made a nice change from the heartbreak and upset.
She wanted to know what his wild meant. Girls, booze, drugs? She’d never thought much about his past. Maybe his quietness wasn’t him being cold or rude; maybe he’d felt out of place since she had known the others since school.
“I think we’ve been gone long enough,” Axel said, offering her a hand.
She sighed, bracing herself to return to the accusing stares and sorrowful glances. He helped her up, and she stared at their joined hands. A spark she’d never felt before rippled through her, and from the way his brow creased, he felt the same. With only inches between them, her eyes drifted to his lips in the tense silence. He didn’t pull away, and she became curious to know what his red wine-stained lips tasted like.
He cleared his throat. “Stop looking at me like that, Bee,” he said softly.
He’d never called her Bee before. It felt too intimate, but she wanted to hear it again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said as he tucked a strand of lilac hair behind her ear, just like that night in the tour bus.
“Yes, you do,” he rasped. His fingertips grazed along her jaw, her neck, as though he was trying to memorise every inch.
Her breath caught as he drew near.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, snatching his hand away like she’d burnt him.
“We should go downstairs,” she said, but neither of them moved. Eye level with his chest, she stared up at him, seeking answers. He let out a deep breath, lost in thought, but when her eyes met his, his gaze darkened.
“Fuck it,” he cursed, and pinned her to the wardrobe door. He crushed his lips against hers, hungry and exploring.
She moaned as he pulled her flush against his hard body. She lost all ability to move, to think, to breathe—there was only him. Trying to steady herself, she rested her hands on his chest. The rush of his heart told her they were both nervous, this wasn’t the time or place, but the taste of his lips ruined her self-control. His touch, the comfort of being held, brought tears to her eyes, and the last thing she wanted was to cry.
“Axel? ? You up there?” Nick’s voice froze them both in place.
covered her mouth with her hands, not sure if she was going to laugh or cry.
“We should get back,” Axel said, but his grip on her didn’t loosen. Nor did she want it to. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like nothing mattered more than her.
“Grief waits for no one.” She brushed off the gloss from his full lower lip. His eyes widened at the gesture. She blushed in disbelief—why was she so comfortable touching him?
“Why?” Axel asked, breaking the heavy silence as they reached the top of the stairs.
“Why what?” Her heart was beating so fast, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“The kiss.”
“I wanted you to, and Cillian will be turning in his grave.”
“So, it was to get back at him?” he asked.
In fact, Cillian hadn’t even crossed her mind. That scared her more than if it had just been about getting revenge.
“It wasn’t the only reason. Does that bother you?” asked, unsure of how to process what had happened between them. If it wasn’t for revenge, then why?
“Happy to be of service.” He shook his head, placing his hands in his pockets, and they headed down to join the remaining guests in the living room.
“You both okay?” Nick asked.
“Just needed a minute.” forced a smile, trying to hide her shame.
“Cillian’s mum wants you to say something before everyone leaves. Most of the people here would’ve attended your wedding, so she thinks they’d like to hear from you.” Nick shuffled uncomfortably as he relayed the request.
“Everyone would understand if it’s too much,” Axel reassured her, but it was the final step, her goodbye.
“A few words couldn’t hurt, and once everyone leaves, we can get to the will reading and call it a day.”
They watched her solemnly and stayed close.
Cillian’s mum smiled at her warmly as she walked over. The guests turned, and fidgeted as the mourners stared, waiting for her to speak, but she was momentarily enraged by Helen sitting on the couch consoling Cillian’s mum. Finding out about her son’s child and other woman would bring her a new level of grief. wished they’d put off the will reading, but if Helen was involved, ripping off the band-aid might be best for everyone.
“I want to thank all of you for coming and helping us celebrate Cillian’s life,” she began. “I’ve loved Cillian for most of my life. Before he was my boyfriend, my fiancé, he was my brother’s annoying best friend, and I was the younger sister with a helpless crush. The more time we spent together, and much to my brother’s irritation, we became inseparable. I can’t pinpoint the day we fell in love, or even the day we started dating, because we just were. That was how I expected to spend the rest of my life, with him. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Not because of the accident, or his untimely passing, but because he was having an affair. What’s a ten-year relationship compared to a six-month affair? Not only was he with another woman when he asked me to spend his life with him, but he’d also got her pregnant.
“I feel like a fraud, because I’m sure you were all expecting to hear from the person he wanted to make a life with. The truth is, that’s not me. The man I loved died long ago, and like my love for him, I can’t pinpoint the day or the hour it happened. The Cillian I loved and grew up with, cried and laughed with, wasn’t the man that nearly killed me. Today I buried a stranger, and the future I thought we were going to have together. Now, I think you should all hear from the woman he was building a future with, the woman who’s carrying his future.”
raised her glass to Helen and downed the champagne as the room stared between them blankly.