Chapter 8
Time and Tequila
? The Night We Met - Lord Huron
Angelina
Five years ago
Three words. Jess is gone.
That’s all it took to turn my world upside down.
We were supposed to grow old together.
She was supposed to be the maid of honor at my wedding and the godmother to my future babies. All my best-laid plans mean nothing if I don’t have Jess to share them with.
From the moment we met in college, it felt like I’d known her my whole life. She was there the day I got my doctorate, and I was in the waiting room when she gave birth to Emmy Lou. She was my person.
Was.
I make my way to the front of the packed reception room, where my best friend’s closed casket lies in wait. Jess was loved by everyone she met, strangers and friends alike. I press my hand to the top of the casket and bow as tears stream down my cheeks.
It’s been a week since we lost her. I can’t eat, can’t sleep. All I do is cry and laugh, but mostly, I cry. The emotional upheaval makes it hard to even wake up in the morning.
I spot Bernie Hoffmann from our favorite Deli speaking with Wilder.
He’s in his sixties, with greying hair and a short, round build.
We visited every week, always with the same order.
He caught on quickly and would have it ready for us when we arrived.
I’ll miss it, but I can’t go back without her.
It’s bad enough that I can see the welcome sign from my window.
When I reach the receiving line, Wilder pulls me into his arms. We stay like that for several long minutes, crying and clinging to each other like we might die if we let go.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I shake my head, but no words come out. I know he blames himself for her death. It’s not his fault. It was an accident. I wish I could make myself say the words, but it’s all I can do to keep breathing.
When he releases me, Jess’s parents, Shawn and Catherine, take his place.
“You should be standing up here with us,” Catherine says, cradling my face in her palms. “You were like a sister to her.”
“I c-can’t.” There’s no universe in which I could stand up here and grieve for an entire room full of people who only knew bits and pieces of the amazing woman I was fortunate enough to call my best friend.
It’s hard enough to be standing here now, knowing I have to walk away, and she won’t be coming with me this time.
Shawn’s palm slides up and down my back. “It’s ok. You’ll be ok.”
I don’t believe him.
I’ve held up the line long enough, so I rush out of the room only to collapse in the dark, empty hallway.
I’ve always had a weird response to trauma, so when the tears give way to laughter, I let it happen.
If Jess were here, she’d be mortified. The thought sends me back to the pits of despair, and the tears start all over again.
As the contradictory emotions get the better of me, a door opens to my right, and a pair of worn cowboy boots enters my field of vision. I follow them up to jean-clad legs and a gold belt buckle until I’m staring into the familiar brown eyes of Griffin Hayes.
I had a fleeting thought that we might be something once. Now he’s another reminder of everything I’ve lost.
I close my eyes and stand, but when I try to walk away, he grips my wrist.
His thumb skates along my pulse point. “Don’t go.”
Griffin’s solemn voice cracks through what little walls I’d built up. When I turn, his eyes are swimming with emotion. I’ve been so lost in my grief, I’d forgotten that Griffin grew up with her. She was more than his sister-in-law.
“She’s gone, Griff.”
He wraps me in his arms and cradles my head against his chest. “I know, Angel. I know.” His tenderness unravels me, and my tears soak through his shirt. “Let’s go find somewhere quiet to sit.”
Griffin guides me into an empty sitting room off the lobby with a sofa and two armchairs near a large picture window. Everything looks like it was frozen in time from another era. He takes the seat to my right on the antique velvet sofa, keeping our hands entwined.
I should pull away.
Part of me wants to lean into him and take what little comfort I can from his presence, but another part of me is scared of what might happen if I do. I let this man disappoint me once; I couldn’t bear it a second time. I’m barely holding onto my sanity as it is.
“I can’t take the pain away, but I can sit in it with you.” Griffin barrels right past all of my defenses, draping his arm around my shoulder. He pulls me against his soft body, and I let him.
I don’t have any fight left in me.
“Jess would’ve hated this,” he mutters against the top of my head, his breath ruffling my hair.
I let out a watery laugh. “Yeah. Too many tears. Not enough tequila.”
“Good thing I came prepared.” He pulls out a small gold flask from the front pocket of his coat and unscrews the top, holding the flask out to me. “To Jess?”
I muster up a tiny smile for the first time in a week as I take it from him. “To Jess.”
Eyes closed, I throw my head back and take a big gulp.
It burns my throat on the way down, and I suddenly wish I had a chaser.
Griffin’s fingers brush mine as he takes it back.
He slowly brings the flask to his mouth, placing his lips where mine were only seconds ago.
His throat bobs on a swallow, and he tucks the flask away.
Jess would be so damn proud to know I ogled her brother-in-law at her funeral.
Silence stretches between us, and the mood turns somber again.
“What do I do now?” I ask.
“The only thing you can do. Keep on living. One day at a time.”
I lean my head against his shoulder, letting his comfort flow through me. Voices drift into the room from the direction we came, and Evelyn Hayes materializes with six-month-old Emmy in her arms.
“Oh. Griff. Perfect. Could you look after Emmy for me?”
Griffin takes the chubby baby into his arms and presses a gentle kiss against her forehead. She looks so much like Jess, it makes my chest ache. Griffin bounces her on his lap, and she coos, reaching for his beard with her tiny hands.
She has no idea what she lost. My heart hurts to know this precious baby girl—the light of Jess’s life—is going to grow up without her mother.
I stand and rub my hand over my black skirt as the room starts to blur.
“How are you holding up?” Evelyn asks, holding out her arms.
I walk into her embrace and inhale a deep breath. “I’m ok.”
It’s bullshit, and we all know it.
“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, sweet girl. None of us are ok.”
She steps back and holds both of my hands in hers. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hayes.”
“Anytime.” She gives me one more squeeze before turning her attention to Griffin. “Take good care of her,” she says.
He nods, and his gaze catches mine. “Always.”
Griffin
Of all the ways I imagined our paths would cross again, I never considered it would be at Jess’s funeral.
I thought I could handle it, but the second I saw Angelina’s tear-stained cheeks, whatever strength I had faded away.
I never believed in soulmates before that weekend three months ago, but I walked away from Angelina’s apartment a changed man.
I only wish I’d found a way to see her sooner.
Standing at Jess’s grave as they lower her casket into the ground, I can’t help but feel a profound sense of loss for all the memories we won’t get to make, and all the milestones she’ll miss.
I catch a glimpse of Wilder as he holds his sleeping daughter.
Tears disappear into his beard, and he rocks her back and forth.
I know, without a shadow of a doubt, if he didn’t have Emmy, he’d jump after Jess into that hole.
We lost Wilder the day she took her last breath, and I don’t know if we’ll ever get him back.
As the funeral comes to an end, I spot Angie walking alone.
She pulls her jacket tighter around her body and stares at the ground as she gets farther and farther away.
She flew all the way here on her own, and she doesn’t have anybody to lean on.
My family is a mess, but at least we have each other.
I jog to catch up with her, intent to be that person for her, even if it only lasts as long as she’s here. I want to ask her why she gave me the wrong number, but the timing isn’t right. If I’m honest, I’m not sure there will ever be a time for us.
“Angie. Wait up.”
She stops.
I catch up with her in a few short strides. “Where are you headed?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Home, I guess. My flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
I open my arms, and she steps into them without hesitation.
She smells the same as she did the night we met.
It sends my mind spiraling back to a time before all of this pain and heartache.
If only I’d had the foresight to cancel my flight and stay in bed with her that day, maybe she wouldn’t have become this fleeting moment in my life—a moment I revisit often.
There was the me before Angelina Rossi, and the me after.
Whatever happens next, I am irrevocably changed.
I pull out my business card and slide it into her palm. “If you need anything, I’m here. Even if you just need to talk.”
Her hand lingers in mine, and her eyes turn glassy. “Goodbye, Griffin.”
The words hit me like a stab to the heart. Whatever hope I had fades.
She’ll never dial the number on that card.
I bring her knuckles up to my lips. “Goodbye, Angel.”