Page 99 of The Perfect Love

When he shuts off the car, he turns to me, emotion heavy on his face.

“This is the first time I’ve ever brought someone here.”

My brows tick up. “Really?”

“I mean, Nick’s been here with me before, but that’s because…” He lowers his voice. “His mom’s buried here too.”

My mouth slips open, but I suddenly understand their friendship even more. Two outwardly sarcastic and troublemaking boys with soft hearts who have experienced a loss no one should have to at a young age.

I reach over and take his hand. “You can share as much or as little as you want with me.”

“I know you don’t get to meet him, but I wish you could. This is as close as I’ll get, so…”

I swing my door open. “I’ll be right by your side.”

The gratitude in his eyes makes my heart squeeze. I wish I could take this hurt from him, but if all I can do is lessen it, I will.

When he meets me by my door, I’m still taking everything in.

“This is surprisingly beautiful. Most cemeteries feel stuffy and manicured. As strange as it sounds, it’s like this one grew here.”

“Yeah. It’s why my mom picked this one. My dad wanted to be cremated, but since that wasn’t in writing, and she didn’t feel like fighting with his family about it, this was the compromise. A place that feels real, connected to nature, and more inviting than a lot of others.”

He takes my hand and leads me through the maze of headstones.

“Do you come here a lot?”

“When I’m at home, maybe once every month or two. Whenever I want to center myself and try to feel connected to him. When I’m away at school, I usually stop either before I leave or when I get back. Last time I was here was the day I left for SUNY FL.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Here we are.”

The headstone is large, with a picture of his dad’s face etched into it. Even in the stone, I see the similarities between him and Trevor. The face shape, the dimples, the hair.

The stone still looks brand new, and there are flowers planted at the base.

“My grandmother plants those.”

I squeeze his hand as I read the headstone.

In loving memory of Mitchell Osborne Matteny. Devoted father, cherished husband, and beloved son.

“Hey, Dad.” Trevor’s voice catches, and I can’t imagine that kind of ache.

My dad has always been my number one supporter. Losing him—or Robbie—would crush me.

Then my gaze drifts back to Trevor.

Losing him?

Nope.

No matter how short a time it’s been, I’d be heartbroken.

He runs a hand over the stone.

“I brought someone with me today.” He rolls his lips and clears his throat. “I get how you looked at Mom now. Anyway, this is Chelsea. I’m not going to ask her to talk to your headstone, because that’s kind of weird, but I just wanted you to know she’s here with me, and she means a lot to me. You’d like her. She keeps me in line and doesn’t put up with my shit. Like Mom was with you.”

Tears spill down my cheeks, and I walk over to Trevor, taking his hand again.

“I don’t care if it’s weird.” I rest my other hand on the stone. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Matteny. Your son is a pain in the butt, but I kind of like him.”

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