Page 29 of Enemy Kisses

“On Wednesdays, I visit my friends, Beverley and Frank. They’re so much fun to spend time with.”

He nods. “Oh, okay. Sounds cool.”

“Did she tell you that Beverley and Frank live in a nursing home?” Judy breezes through with the broom while I scrub the display fridge.

Matthew’s head snaps around to me. “You hang out with old people, and you think it’s fun? You need to get out more, Harry.” He chuckles.

My eyebrows shoot up at his jesting. He’s been with us for four weeks and slowly but surely he’s grown more comfortable with us, joining in with jokes and conversations. He settled in quickly and is a fast learner. Quentin’s impressed with his work in the kitchen. Even though I didn’t initially employ him for food preparation, he’s picked up the techniques like he was born to be a pastry chef.

“Ha ha.” I poke my tongue at him like the mature adult I am.

We finish cleaning, then Matthew, Judy, and Quentin leave for the day. I step into my office to catch up on my office work while I wait for Stella and Liam with their deliveries, making sure I complete everything so I can leave as soon as I store the produce.

* * *

With everything stored ready for the morning, I lock the back door, drop today’s treats in my basket, and head off to the nursing home. The wind is intense and my thighs burn against the resistance, but I push on. Thank goodness the temperature has finally dropped from the extreme highs we’ve been having. My hair blows into my face and my bike wobbles as I push it out of the way so I can see properly.

“Hoooonk!” My heart stutters and my balance is precarious as a car speeds past me. Geez. That was a close call. I come to a stop close to the curb to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. Some people are assholes on the road; sometimes I think they don’t like sharing the road with cyclists. I take deep breaths until my hands stop shaking, then hit the road again.

When I ride into the parking lot, my shirt is sticking to my body. I hate that. I hate being sweaty. It’s a real thing. I know I’m probably a weirdo.

I grab my lock and secure my bike to the fence, then collect the treats out of the basket. My smile is wide as the glass doors slide open and I step into the reception area and walk toward the sign-in desk. Rachel looks up from her computer with a smile, which drops the instant her eyes lock on me. That’s weird. My stomach twists. I hope they aren’t mad at me for bringing treats for Beverley and Frank.

“Hi, Rachel. I’m here to see Beverley and Frank.”

Her gaze skates around the reception area. “Uh, Harry. Could you please wait here a moment?”

I drop my smile and my eyebrows furrow together. “Everything okay?” I ask her retreating back.

She doesn’t answer and disappears through a doorway. I sign the visitor’s book while I wait for her to come back to unlock the door so I can visit with my friends. A woman I vaguely remember from when Grand-Mère died steps through the doorway, her lips turned down and eyes full of compassion. My heart stutters and a sense of dread climbs up my body from my toes.

She comes around to my side of the reception area and holds out a hand toward the black leather couches on the opposite side of the room. “Harry. Would you mind joining me over here?” She walks in the direction she just pointed, and I follow her on autopilot, the sense of dread growing stronger. I take a seat next to her and swivel my body slightly so we’re facing each other. “I’m not sure if you remember me. We met when your grandmother passed.” My mouth is too dry to speak, so I nod and she continues. “My name’s Andrea and I’m the manager here.” I nod again. “We find ourselves in an unusual situation. I contacted Beverley’s family this afternoon, and they permitted me to discuss this with you since you visit with Beverley each Wednesday.”

I try to swallow past the boulder-sized lump lodged in my throat. My nose is tingling and that telltale sting at the back of my eyes is threatening to burst free. I fidget with the box containing Frank and Beverley’s favorite treats. “I-i-is Beverley o-okay?”

Sadness washes over Andrea’s face. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. But Beverley suffered a massive stroke yesterday morning. She was taken to the hospital—”

I stand on shaky legs. “Which hospital?” I need to visit her.

Andrea stands and places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Harriet. Beverley didn’t make it. She passed away early this morning.” Her words are muffled, and I have to concentrate hard to focus on what she’s saying.

The box falls from my hands; the treats spilling onto the pristine carpet, leaving flakes of pastry strewn about. I collapse onto the couch and wrap my arms around my body to hold myself together, but the tears fall as a loud sob escapes.

“I’m so sorry, Harriet. I understand how close you were. The family wanted me to pass on their thanks and appreciation for your regular visits. They were the highlight of her week.” She sits beside me and squeezes my arm. “If you would like to attend her funeral, let me know. The family said you would be welcome.”

I bury my face in my hands and sob. All the pain of losing Grand-Mère comes back to the surface and threatens to suffocate me. I’m right back to the night when my life changed forever. Andrea wraps her arm around me, pulling me in close to hold my broken pieces together while I fall apart. I try to suck in deep breaths and compose myself, but just as I gather myself, another memory of Beverley assaults me, and I’m back to where I started.

Oh my God. Frank.

I wipe away my tears with the heels of my hands and run my fingers beneath my nose. “How’s Frank? He and Beverley were close.”

“He hasn’t come out of his room and won’t speak with anyone. We’ve been checking on him, but he hasn’t moved from his seat by the window in his room.”

“C-can I see him?”

Andrea looks away, then back to me. “I’m not sure he’ll see you, but you can try. I’ll walk you to his room.”

“Thank y-you.” As we pass the reception desk, Andrea leans over the counter and passes me a wad of tissues. I take them gratefully and wipe my face and blow my nose. Frank’s going to know I’ve been crying. I won’t be able to hide it from him. He never misses much. We walk down the long corridors and it seems to take forever. A sob breaks free when we pass Beverley’s door. Knowing she’s not in there and never will be again rips my heart wide open.

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