Page 65 of Below Deck Billionaire
She stared at her phone for a beat or two, as though she was having trouble remembering how it had got there, before she looked at him. She was ghostly pale and her fingers were trembling as Theo stepped closer only to have her shake her head and ward him back with her hand.
Steeling himself against her rejection, he said, ‘What do you need?’
‘I have to go home.’
He nodded briskly. ‘Give me ten minutes, I’ll arrange it.’
22
ONE MONTH LATER…
Tiffany sat on the screened back porch of the homestead, a glass of her father’s best whisky in hand. She’d come to escape the mill of people who were gathered in the large area of manicured lawn to the front for her father’s wake. With the autopsy requirements and the extra challenges of getting his body back to Balmain Downs from Sydney where he’d been at the time of his heart attack – including some minor flooding from early rains – there’d been quite the delay with the funeral.
And now it was done and he’d been laid to rest at the small cemetery in town, she felt like she could breathe again and maybe come to terms with the fact that she’d never come to terms with their estrangement. She’d have thought that their schism would make his eventual death easier. After all, she’d already spent years grieving the loss of the man she’d thought he was.
But it turned out estrangement only made the grief worse. Because guilt was thrown into the mix. Guilt at never having resolved their issues, or at least saying all the things that twelve-year-old Tiffany hadn’t been able to articulate. Guilt at never even trying to forgive or understand and perhaps move on.
What her father had done had cut her to the core, but listening to the eulogy in the funeral, she realised that, to others, he was more than his worst impulses. That he was well regarded and respected. That he would be missed. And that ultimately, he was just a man, as fallible and flawed as the next one, and that she should never have hero-worshipped him in the first place because no person could live up to that.
She wasn’t sure if she’d ever forgive him for the emotional blackmail, but being home again, amongst friends and family and landscapes that were part of her DNA and talking to people who knew him differently, had helped her see him differently and perhaps let go a little bit.
Sighing, she took a slug of the whiskey, her gaze falling on the open laptop sitting on the low rickety table in front of her. Blurry pictures of Theo on his superyacht sunbaking next to some random woman on a boat filled the screen. It hurt – more than she cared to analyse – to see them, but she was hardly surprised.
Deep down she’d expected it.
Theo had reverted to type and if it helped draw a line through the feelings that had only grown fonder with his absence, then that was surely a good thing.
He’d called and texted regularly the past month. Had even wanted to come to the funeral, especially as Kelsey hadn’t been able to make it because her blood pressure was up and the doctor had advised against flying long distance. But Tiffany had asked him not to. She was working through enough complicated emotions without adding her nagging feelings for Theo into the mix.
‘Hey.’
Tiffany turned to find Mikey strolling her way, and she closed the laptop as he sat in the wicker chair next to hers. ‘How’s it going out there?’ she asked as they tapped tumblers.
‘Bear is telling tales of the old days,’ he said with a smile.
She laughed. It had been a shock to see him turn up at the church. He’d been old as dirt when she’d been a kid and Tiffany had assumed he’d passed away years ago.
‘I forgot to tell you,’ Mikey said as he stared into his glass, ‘that Dad told me to tell you he was sorry.’
Tiffany’s head swivelled to stare at her brother. ‘What?’
The past month had been a blur and they hadn’t really spoken about anything, not even the news about Mikey’s upcoming European tour. He’d just told her that their father had tuned up out of the blue to see him at the gallery, even buying the not-for-sale painting of Balmain Downs, and then had collapsed clutching his chest.
Mikey nodded as he looked at her. ‘He was lying on the gallery floor looking terrible. Grey and sweaty, and we were waiting for the ambulance. I could hear it screaming nearer and nearer and he was grunting and I was fucking shitting myself that he was going to die and telling him to hang on, hang on, and then he just looked at me and said, “Tell Tiff I’m sorry,” and then he slumped down and stopped breathing and the paramedics couldn’t revive him.’
She blinked. She didn’t know what to say to that. Her father had never said sorry for putting her in the middle like he had.
‘I’m really sorry, it slipped my mind. It’s been so crazy and it was a pretty intense incident, and I feel like I’ve barely seen you since you got back.’
‘It’s fine.’ She had flown direct to Darwin and Mikey had stayed in Sydney until a few days ago, so there was that. Plus she could only imagine how traumatic it must have been for him to watch complete strangers trying to revive their dead father right in front of him.
‘Does it help?’ he asked.
‘I… don’t know.’
It was a startling revelation, and Tiffany wished he’d been able to tell her before he died, but the fact they were his last words perhaps hinted that at least his actions back then had weighed on his mind.
She shrugged. ‘Maybe it will… eventually.’
