Chapter 171 Tilda
Tilda
The interior of the house is small but not cramped.
The kitchen is off to the side, open, with a peninsula island, much like my house. And the living room is bright, with a sliding glass door that looks out over a little pond, letting in a lot of sunlight.
I take a seat on the emerald-green couch as Stephen lowers himself into one of the two peach-colored armchairs opposite me.
Between us is an antique lacquered coffee table with gold inlay tracing the edge.
And on the table is a plate with four different types of cookies.
“Sadly, they aren’t homemade.” Stephen gestures at the plate. “Jack was the baker.”
He sounds… happy. But there’s a hint of that sadness I feel in my chest.
I lift my gaze to the wall behind Stephen.
And it’s all right there.
The framed photos.
The two of them.
Arms around shoulders. Smiles and soft expressions.
“I always told him we should tell you.” Stephen’s voice holds no admonishment. “But he was a stubborn man.”
“I…” I press my palms against my thighs. “I would’ve been happy for him. I am. I wish…”
“He knows. He was never afraid you wouldn’t.” The then why must be written all over my face because Stephen answers my unspoken question. “He didn’t want to burden you with secrets.”
“That’s stupid.”
Stephen huffs a laugh. “Stubborn, remember? But I told him I was going to do this.” He gestures across to me. “And he didn’t even try to tell me not to. Honestly, I think he wanted me to. And I think the whole elaborate inheritance plan was his way of apologizing. He was always bad at that.”
“Apologizing?” I try to smile as I reach up and brush away a tear.
My body is so tired of these mixed emotions.
Joy for Uncle Jack, knowing he wasn’t alone. That he had someone.
And sadness that he never told me. That I had to find out now.
Sometimes it’s the little things.
The laughs. The meals together. The hand holding.
Sometimes it’s the big things.
The moments that feel like they might’ve saved your life.
Usually, it’s everything.
The big and the little. The explosive and the slow.
Love can be all of that. And so much more.
Stephen nods as he leans forward and nudges the plate of desserts toward me.
I take one of the cookies shaped like an elf.
Stephen takes a square one that looks like lemon.
And as we take bites, a tiny dog walks out from behind the second chair, startling me.
The dog yawns, his gray fur sticking out in all directions, looking like he just took a winter-long nap.
Then, the dog coughs. A raspy cough.
And my mouth opens.
Stephen scoops up the tiny dog and sets him on his lap. “Cena always has allergies this time of year.”
I gape at the man and his little dog too. “I thought you were dying.”
He grins. “Did you?”
I try to scowl at him, but I can’t find it in me. I’m more impressed by the trickery than upset over it. “You two really were made for each other.”
Stephen winks at me as he scratches Cena behind the ears. “The wrestling DVDs were mine.”
I slump back against the plush couch. “Did Uncle Jack really not drive his truck back and forth? Or was that a ploy to get me to fly with Ethan?”
“Jack did not drive that old-ass pickup back and forth. The truck stayed at the mountain house year-round.” Stephen takes a bite of his cookie. “He drove his Corvette.”
“Corvette,” I deadpan.
Stephen grins. “He left that to me. Your man can buy you one if you want to match.”
I press my lips together, but I think Stephen might be my only family now, so I decide to tell him the truth. “I found the letter Uncle Jack sent Ethan. About the money.”
Stephen lets out a heavy sigh. “I told Jack not to do that. Told him it was a bad idea that would backfire. And that Ethan wouldn’t need the nudge.
But Jack wasn’t willing to risk it. Said he needed to make sure the wedding would happen.
It was the idea of an old, foolish man. And the fault of that lands on him, not Ethan. ”
I let his words settle against me as I absorb them. “Have you met him? Ethan?”
“That handsome man waiting outside?” Stephen shakes his head. “No. Our paths never crossed. Jack mostly went to the mountains by himself, when he wanted to disconnect and be one with the trees. But Jack told me all about him. And I believe him to be a good man.”
I shove the rest of the cookie in my mouth.