Page 26 of Where Happiness Begins

Oh, hell no, he isn’t. I don’t need that extra bill, especially for something as small as this.

Pushing his hand, I lift myself into a seating position, then push my hair away from my forehead.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I might have overdone it, but I’ll go eat something and drink some water and should be fine.

“The hell you are.” Carter looks genuinely shocked that I’m suggesting this. “You just passed out.”

“My blood pressure drops sometimes.” I slowly get to my feet, only needing to close my eyes briefly to stabilize myself. “It’s not a big deal.”

“We’re going to the hospital,” he says, not listening to a word I’ve just said.

“No, we’re not. This is nothing. Happens all the time,” I say, not even lying.

“I don’t care. I don’t like it.”

“Well, you don’t have to like it, do you?” I cock my head, chest tight. “We’re nothing to each other, remember?”

He sighs, so deep it seems to hollow out his chest.

“I’m going back inside,” I say, not feeling like rejoining the crowd just yet but wanting to stay here with him even less. As if he has any right to act worried about me now when he’s dismissed me time and time again. “You do whatever the hell you want.” The emotions enveloping my voice surprise me. I thought I was getting over it, but apparently, I’m still very much on edge.

“Lilianne, come on—”

“Have a great rest of your night,” I say, not even looking at him before I walk back inside, hoping he won’t follow.

Chapter 11

I’m missing a necklace.

I was speaking with Lexie this morning about what I should be wearing as accessories for the wedding. When she asked me, her sister, and her sister-in-law to be her bridesmaids a few months ago, she only asked that we wear whichever green dress we wanted but didn’t mention anything about accessories. When I asked her about it, she said to wear something that meant something to us, and I immediately thought of the beautiful jade necklace Nan gave me from her jewelry collection when I graduated from high school. It’d look beautiful with the mint green dress I chose, elevating it while remaining modest. And right after thinking that, I realized I haven’t seen that necklace in a long, long time. I could obviously do without it for the wedding, but it’s a family heirloom, and I want to find it at some point.

I’ve spent my every waking moment since my call with Lex turning the house around to find it, but no such luck. The worst part is I don’t remember when or where I saw it last, so I don’t even have an inkling of where it could be. It can’t be in the basement since I emptied it of my stuff before He Who Shall Not Be Named moved in, so it has to besomewhere here.

There’s one part of the house I haven’t touched, and I was really, really hoping I wouldn’t have to. I don’t see why the necklace would be in Dad’s room, but there’s a chance he might have picked it up at some point after I’d left it in the bathroom or something and could’ve forgotten to give it back. It might even be in the laundry basket I know is still in his room, untouched for the past two years. I’d made my peace with never seeing the clothes in it again, but that necklace is too important for me to accept its loss forever.

There’s also a possibility I could’ve left it at Greg’s at some point, but there’s no way in hell I’m contacting him. So this is my second to last resort.

I stretch my fingers from where they’re balled into fists as I stand before the master bedroom. It’s been too long since I’ve walked in there. I’ve put it off as long as I could, and the more time passed, the harder it’s made it to open the door.

It’s just a room.

It almost feels as if someone else takes control of my body to take that final step and turn the doorknob.

After two years, the room smells a little stuffy, but mostly, I’m hit with the smell of Dad’s shampoo, like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath away.

God. It’s as if he’s still here.

The step inside feels like walking through a time machine to the day I found out he’d been in a car accident and had passed from his injuries. The moment the police officers had left my house after gifting me with their condolences, I’d closed the door to theroom and never dared open it again. The bed has been quickly made, sheets hanging off one side under the duvet. A pair of jeans hangs over the back of the La-Z-Boy in the corner of the room. The laundry basket is indeed there, holding the outfit I wore to the dialysis ward Christmas party the week before he died. If I stayed in this room, I could pretend he’s just gone to pick up some milk from the grocery store down the street. He’ll be back in ten minutes, bellowing as he opens the door, “Hey, Bean, I’m back,” a pack of chocolate chip cookies in his bag because he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from grabbing it for me.

My breaths come in faster and faster as I continue looking around, finding him in every corner and yet knowing this is all I have left of his life.

Screw the necklace. I don’t need it.

My throat is dry as I step backward, almost tripping on a pair of shoes before I shut the door, breathing fast. Exhaustion pushes at my shoulders, feeling heavier than they were mere seconds ago. I let my forehead drop against the closed door, and when I feel the threat of tears, I squeeze my eyes shut.

Turns out two years wasn’t long enough for me to be ready.

I’m not sure I ever will be, and sometimes, that’s what scares me the most. The bright pain of losing him has dulled, of course, going from a burning, oozing wound to a scar that lances with certain movements. Still, sometimes I remember that I’ll never see him again, and the pain that rips through me could make me topple over, and what will happen if that feeling never goes away? What if I never get over this loss?

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