CHAPTER 53 #2
We rarely saw eye to eye, but it didn’t change the fact that she had so much potential. She deserved to see it through, not be buried six feet beneath the ground.
My girls had been dropping by periodically to check in on me and to gift me all sorts of care packages stocked with all of my favourite things.
When Hera visited with Ella, Darla, and Dacia, I had to confess to her what really transpired.
She was the WIB student association president and she probably realized that Morgan wasn’t replying to any of her texts, let alone any work emails.
The girls were shocked, to say the least, when I recounted the tragedy.
Naturally, they swore that they’d be taking this to the grave.
We couldn’t risk anyone figuring out how Morgan, Tom, and I were connected.
Namely since it could jeopardize Papà and the Remingtons.
“We’re so sorry, Gabby,” Ella echoed. “If there’s anything we can do for you, please let us know.”
“Once the semester comes to an end, maybe we can plan a fun girls’ night with Anna and Layla.” Darla exchanged a glance with her sister, Dacia. “We can host at our place.”
“That would be lovely.” I’d need many girls’ nights to recharge after this. I looked pointedly at Hera, who was pensive. “Hera, I’ll be organizing Morgan’s funeral.”
She cleared her throat. “Can I help in any way?”
“Would you be okay sending our team the date and details of her service? I imagine they’d want to be present to pay their respects. And if you know the contacts of any of her friends…”
I barely knew anything about Morgan’s life outside of the student association. If she had friends or not. A pet. Other engagements.
Hera nodded. “Of course. Leave that to me. I’ll create a digital invite and forward it to the proper crowd.”
And three days later, at Morgan’s funeral, I was glad to see many faces outside of our WIB student association.
Morgan may not have had much family, but at least she had friends who cared and would feel the loss of her.
If anyone asked, the story we were going with was that Morgan died during a car crash and that was why her funeral was closed-casket.
No one would know that I footed the bill for the funeral, that Tom killed her, or that I was lying next to her in the Prescott mausoleum, where her body was retrieved from.
To the public, I was simply a peer here to pay my respects.
Hand in hand, Hunter and I walked to her casket and I gingerly laid my bouquet of blue hyacinths and white carnations on top. The florist said they symbolized heavy regret and that you wouldn’t forget the person. My last message to Morgan. I prayed she found peace in the afterlife.
“Rest easy, Morgan,” I whispered under my breath.
Hunter squeezed my hand.
Once everything wrapped up, we headed out of the cemetery, but I paused when I saw a familiar figure standing by a small tombstone.
Franco, with a bouquet of white roses in his hand.
His mother’s favourites.
My eyes closed briefly, realizing Mrs. Morelli—the reason why he begged my papà to return to the city—had passed away.
As if sensing my presence, his head lifted. Our eyes connected for mere seconds. Blotchy-faced and red eyes, he appeared miserable. I gave him a meaningful look to wordlessly express my condolences. His reply came in the form of blowing out a long breath and an imperceptible nod.
I hoped I never had to see him again. Even though he hurt me in many ways, I didn’t wish him ill. Only healing and peace from here on out.
Jaw clenched, Hunter pinned Franco with a frosty stare before continuing to direct me towards his car.
My current read, which was an alien romance courtesy of Nonna’s recommendations, sat on the dashboard. I removed my nestled bookmark—the same one Hunter gifted me on our first unofficial date—and picked up where I left off while he drove.
I thought we were going home but was pleasantly surprised when he steered in Le Petit Moulin’s direction.
I could go for a mocha and a box of chocolate donuts.
Elsie, the owner of the café, recognized us when we entered, offering a warm smile and throwing an extra slice of a raspberry-chocolate cake into our order.
On the house, she said, which was very kind.
I made a mental note to leave her a five-star review.
The café was relatively busy at this hour, but we managed to seat ourselves in the same spot as the first time we came here.
Hunter sipped a black coffee and picked at the complimentary cake, watching me.
“What is it?” I asked after scarfing down half of my donuts like a hungry beast.
Hunter smiled. “Nothing. It’s just good to see you regain your appetite and strength.”
I smiled too, inching forward the two donuts I saved for him. “I couldn’t have done it without the help of my personal butler, chef, bodyguard, chauffeur, and everything in between.”
He chuckled when I quoted him. Licking his bottom lip, he rasped, “Will you take a walk with me today?”
It was an exceptionally sunny fall afternoon and we should definitely take advantage. Taking a walk was another way to infuse more normalcy into our lives again and we absolutely needed to resume our usual routine.
“I would love nothing more, Hunt.”
The semester was nearing its end, with less than a handful of weeks left, and I still had many assignments and exams due.
My professors, however, were very accommodating when I sent them an email with a doctor’s note about my condition.
Most said they wouldn’t dock marks for participation and that I was welcome to finish my semester from the comfort of my home.
Others offered me any necessary extensions.
That way, I wouldn’t fall behind and could finish this term with all my good grades intact.
A few days after Morgan’s funeral, I was seated at the dining table with Mamma and Nonna.
We were wedding planning over coffee and tiramisu, despite Mamma’s earlier protests.
They initially wanted a small, December wedding but considered pushing the date forward, given my situation.
I promised them that I would be fully recovered by the time the wedding rolled around.
I didn’t want them to delay any more. They waited long enough to get back together and I didn’t want to risk either of them getting cold feet.
Plus, they’d started couple’s therapy and things were progressing well.
If anything, I was really excited for them to tie the knot again.
“It’s decided,” Nonna said, stroking Luna’s back while shoving her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, reading her notes. “We’re going with pink for your theme.”
Nonna was internally fist punching the air over not having to wear canary yellow again.
“Sounds good. I want an arrangement of hydrangeas on every table as the centerpiece.” Mamma folded her fingers underneath her chin like a bench and dreamily gazed at the ceiling. “You think Enzo will agree to wear a pink tie?”
I jotted down pink hydrangeas under the table centerpiece ideas row in my notebook, suppressing my smile.
“I think that besotted fool would agree to pluck the moon from the sky and bring it to you if your heart so much as desired,” Nonna supplied. “Really, Lucia, do you not know anything about the man you’re marrying? My son would do anything for you. Wearing a pink tie included.”
Said besotted fool chose that exact moment to poke his head through the dining room entrance, his expression instantly softening when it landed on Mamma.
For a few seconds, they locked eyes and gave each other that secret smile of theirs.
“There you are, Lucia. Feels like I’ve been searching everywhere for you. ”
“I’m here. We’re wedding planning.” Mamma blushed. “Enzo, how do you feel about pink?”
He frowned. “Is that your final choice?”
She nodded, hopeful.
He grinned wide. “Then I love it, principessa.”
I almost rolled my eyes. Nonna pretended to gag. My parents hadn’t stopped behaving like teenagers in love. No matter how much we ribbed them, this was preferred over their headache-inducing arguing.
“Gabriela?”
I put my pen down. “Yes, Papà?”
“I want to show you something.” He hedged forward, slipping his hands in his pockets.
“What is it?”
“A surprise. Meet me outside and dress warm.”
I donned a wool coat over my loungewear attire and stuffed my feet into fur-lined boots.
The front door was already ajar. I stepped out onto the porch…and my jaw fell open.
Sitting on our driveway, gleaming under the morning sunlight, was a dark red convertible with a big white bow on top.
“Papà?” I advanced towards the car. “Is this mine?”
“It sure is.” He handed me the keys. “You said you wanted one, no?”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” I hugged him tight. He chuckled. “I love it!”
He chin-tipped towards my new car. “I bought it for you and would have had it delivered last week, but your boyfriend asked to add some modifications.”
Curiosity piqued, I moved around it to see these so-called modifications…and paused when I found them. Heart-shaped taillights and silver heart-shaped rims welcomed me.
Oh my God.
I was obsessed.
Dare I say in my totally biased opinion, this was the prettiest car I’d ever seen. I couldn’t wait to obtain my licence in a couple of months and drive her around the city.
I shot a selfie of myself posing with my car and sent it to Hunter.
Look what arrived today!! I adore the modifications you made. You know me so well. —Gabby
He replied within seconds.
You’re welcome, Gabby. —Hunter
Can’t wait to experience life as a passenger princess. —Hunter
I snickered.
I love you —Gabby
I love you too, doll. —Hunter