Chapter 21
“I’m going with you, Sloan,” Gareth states, his eyes hard and unrelenting on mine as he stands on the opposite side of my kitchen with a dish towel slung over his shoulder.
“Gareth, this is Sophia’s grandmother’s funeral. She’s a Coleridge. And the service will be attended by all of Manchester and London high society. People would definitely recognise you.”
“I don’t give a toss.” He flings the towel into the sink and crosses his muscled arms over his chest.
“We agreed to keep our relationship quiet until after the World Cup. You and your brothers have been front-page news for two weeks straight now.”
“None of that matters anymore,” he growls and leans back against the counter. “This is different, Sloan. This is real life. I’m not going to let you and Sophia go through this alone.”
I inhale deeply and pin Gareth with a look. “I’ve gone through a hell of a lot worse with Sophia on my own. I can handle it.”
“I know you can but I can’t!” he exclaims, the veins in his neck protruding angrily. “Don’t you understand, Sloan? It will kill me to not be there beside you. For comfort, for friendship, for someone to lean on and look to. I don’t want you to handle it alone!”
Suddenly, Sophia is standing between us, her arms outstretched like she has to hold us apart. “Gareth is coming, Mummy.”
I stare down at her and shake my head. “Sophia, I told you to go up to your room.”
“No, I don’t want you guys to fight,” she retorts.
“We’re not fighting,” I reply and cut Gareth a look. “We’re having a disagreement.”
“It doesn’t matter. I said Gareth can come and so did Grandmama,” Sophia states, turning to face me with her hands on her hips like a tiny little Wonder Woman.
“When did your grandma say that?” I ask, looking down at Sophia, who still has not cried a single tear since I told her the news of Margaret’s passing.
“She said it to me the last time I saw her,” Sophia answers, a dark expression fleeting across her face as a memory clearly falls down over her.
“What else did she say to you, Sophia?” I ask, kneeling down to look into my daughter’s eyes.
Sophia takes a big breath and replies, “We said goodbye. That’s all. But, Mummy, please don’t be cross at Gareth. I don’t want to lose him, too.”
I look up at Gareth, whose hard eyes have instantly softened.
He drops down to his knees on the other side of Sophia and gives her hair a ruffle. “I’m not going anywhere, Little Minnow. You’re stuck with me for a long, long time.”
A sense of anxiety works its way up in my chest. I’m not the only one in this relationship with Gareth. Not by a long shot.
At the church, Sophia sits with Callum and Callie in the front pew.
Her brown hair tied back in a low ponytail.
Her black dress with a white collar, perfect and pristine, the way Margaret would have liked.
I never realised how hard it would be to watch Sophia be a part of the Coleridge family without me.
To witness her interacting with her father and his fiancée through an emotional time that I have no place in.
I notice that Callum never comforts Sophia.
He never embraces her. Sophia simply follows him into the pew and sits down with perfect posture, awaiting her time to give the reading that Margaret asked her to do.
Whatever Margaret shared with my daughter when they last saw each other two weeks ago has prepared her for this day better than I could have ever imagined.
Gareth’s arm wraps tightly around me as I watch my little girl walk up to the altar, wait as the minister adjusts the microphone to her almost eight-year-old height, and read a passage from the bible with complete grace that she did not get from me.
That is all Margaret.
Through proud tears, I look over at Gareth and mouth a silent thank you. I didn’t want him here, but having him here is exactly what I need.
At the cemetery, Sophia chooses to stand under my umbrella with Gareth instead of with her dad and Callie. I watch her quiet reserve slowly begin to crumble as the minister sprinkles dirt over the casket and speaks the final words about Margaret’s life.
My little fighter hasn’t shed a single tear up until this moment. As soon as one slips out, it’s as if the floodgates have been opened. She hides her face in my dress, sniffing loudly and squeezing me around my hips so tightly, I’m sure her arms are exhausted.
Gareth comforts me while I comfort Sophia. When the funeral ends and everyone makes their way back to their cars, the three of us stay behind. Once everyone is gone, Sophia lets go of me and wipes harshly at her tears as she walks over to the burial site.
“What are you doing, Sophia?” I ask.
“I want a flower,” she states and points to the spray of roses draped over the casket.
My eyes find Gareth’s and he nods his understanding.
“The pink one,” Sophia says to Gareth, pointing to the one pink rose that’s hidden amongst all the white ones.
Gareth smiles kindly and reaches his long form over to pluck the flower from the casket spray, then kneels down to hand it to Sophia. She instantly presses it to her nose and looks up at me with tear-soaked eyes.
“Grandmama said this one is for me.”
Without another word, my perfect little girl turns to walk back toward the limo, passing by a waiting Callum on her way.
I swipe at my own tears as Gareth puts his hand on the small of my back as we turn to follow.
Callum clears his throat as we reach him. “Did you get my email about the meeting next month?”
With a frown, I look over at him and nod. “With Margaret’s lawyer? Yes, I got it. I’ll be there.” I look around, annoyed that he’s bringing this up here of all places.
“Good. Don’t be late,” he tuts, then eyes Gareth for a moment before turning on his heel to join Callie and Sophia in the limo.
“What’s that about?” Gareth asks, watching Callum with cautious warning in his eyes.
I shake my head. “Probably Sophia’s inheritance. But with Callum, I’m always wary.”