chapter twenty-one #2
“Very well.” She fixes a pair of reading glasses on her nose and raises a sheet of paper.
“Today, we interment Grace Diana Wilson to sea. Beloved mother of Riley Alessandra Wilson, and a courageous woman who was taken far too soon. May you rest peacefully, Grace, and move with the ebb and flow of the ocean, your memory remaining, forever in the hearts you touched so deeply.” She sets down the paper.
“In your own time, Ms. Wilson, you may proceed to the railing.”
I slide my hand into Riley’s and urge him forward with me, not wanting to do this alone. “Would you mind carrying the flowers for me?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
Strolling to the railing, Mom pressed to my chest, I breathe in the sea air, committing to memory how it smells and feels: tepid but fresh, salty but clean.
The distant laughter of children and adults hums on the breeze several decks above, a joyous soft melody.
It draws a smile I didn’t think I was capable of today, because Mom loved laughter.
She would always tell me it’s the world’s strongest medicine.
An everlasting cure. When she was sad, it was never for long, because she’d find ways to laugh.
I thought she was crazy, but… she was just pure like that.
“Okay, Momma,” I say, wiping my face. “Are you ready for your free throw?”
If she were here, she’d say, “Don’t miss,” and then she’d cheer me on like a manic spectator.
I won’t, Mom. I promise.
Raising her urn to my lips, I give her one last kiss, position her at my breasts, then take a deep breath, closing my eyes and whispering, “Goodbye, Momma. I love you always and forever.”
Exhaling, I draw as much strength as I possess, open my eyes, and set her free, my chest seizing as she sails through the air and splashes into the ocean, the ship’s wake a bubbly cradle, carrying her to her final resting place.
Unbearable pain ruptures my heart, the loss and emptiness so overwhelming that I want to reach out and take her back, to never let her go again.
But I know I can’t, and that thought alone is the greatest devastation I’ve ever endured.
“Nooo,” I sob, my knees buckling, my hands slipping from the railing.
Riley encases me in his strong arms, preventing me from crumbling to the deck below my feet, his voice soft as he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”
I hold on to him as if he’s the only thing I can hold on to, as if he’s the only thing left in my life worth holding on to. Because without Mom, I have no one left, no one to turn to, to share with. No one I love and who loves me.
“You did it, Riles. You gave her what she wanted. You set her free. I’m so proud of you.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “I want her back.”
“I know.” He squeezes me tighter. “Do you want me to jump in and go after her? Because I will, for you.”
Sadness and laughter simultaneously bubble in my throat. “No. Please don’t.”
He sighs with relief. “Thank Christ for that.”
I wipe my eyes and straighten my shoulders. “She’d swim away from you if you tried.”
“Ahh, so that’s where you get your stubbornness from?”
I force a proud smile. “Like mother, like daughter.”
“Would you like to release the flowers now?” he asks, handing them to me.
“Can we do it together?”
His damp blue eyes glitter, a mirror of the water below, and I know whenever I look upon them from now on, I’ll remember this moment forever.
I’ll remember he was here with me.
I’ll remember I wasn’t alone.
The rest of that day and the one that followed were kind of a blur.
And in the moments when my despair reared its ugly head, Riley was there to help me confront it or bury it deep where it belonged.
He gave me space when I needed it, made me laugh when laughter seemed impossible, and he refrained from arguing when I deliberately pushed to fight, my ill-directed anger unfairly boiling profusely.
He’d been a friend, a punching bag… my saving grace. And I was eternally grateful.
We visited the Long Room in the Library of Trinity College in Dublin, a grand Georgian architectural masterpiece—Riley’s words, not mine.
Sadly, all I can remember through my fog of grief is the floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves stacked with a vast, priceless collection of books, one in particular dating back to 800 A.D, each majestic column headed with a marble bust. The library was used as inspiration for Hogwarts, which was fitting, considering I also remember meandering about it, parentless, like Harry.
Staring at the flowers Riley arranged for me after Mom’s interment, an exact replica of Mom’s bouquet, I push off the end of my bed and slide out a single white rose, resting it on my lip as I inhale the lovely scent.
Only two other men have bought me flowers during my thirty-two years—one of them an ambitious jerk with an ulterior motive, the other an incorrigible imbecile.
Smiling, I pick up the card and read it for, quite possibly, the hundredth time. You’re not alone.
“I mean every word, Riles,” he says as he slides his hands around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder.
I breathe him in, enjoying the scent of my shampoo in his hair. “I know.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better today.”
“You’ll have good days and bad days. That will never change.”
“Today will be a good day. I’ll make sure of that. It’s what Mom wanted.”
He kisses the side of my head, and every nerve ending fizzles to life. I love it when he kisses my head. It says so much without saying anything at all.
“So today will be a good day, huh? Good enough to come with me, now, no questions asked?”
Turning in his arms, the rose still dangling from my hand, I narrow my gaze. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Where are we going?”
“Did you not hear the no-questions-asked part?”
Truth is, I don’t need to ask. After the pillar of strength he has been for me, I’d go anywhere with him. And that should terrify me, but it doesn’t. When I’m in his arms like this, his crinkly eyes searching mine, his sexy stubble twitching, terror is the last thing I feel.
Pressing my lips to his, I murmur, “Lead the way.”
He growls, his tongue lightly grazing mine, his hands creeping underneath my T-shirt. “On second thought, let’s stay exactly where we are.”
I don’t object. I can’t. My body is more than happy to remain attached to his.
Riley pulls away, runs his hands through his hair, and eyes me heatedly. “We need to leave right now, or—”
I pout. “Or what?”
“Or so help me God, I will strip you naked.”
My jaw drops.
My core clenches.
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He just continues gripping his hair, and I fear for a moment that he might actually rip it out.
Biting my lip, I take his fingers in mine and lead him toward the door. “We better go then.”