Page 27 of The Marrying Kind
“Care to have a glass of wine with me?”
The look he gave me was impossible to say no to. The man was seriously tempting.
“Sure.”
He wrestled the cork out of the bottle and poured two glasses. We carried them to the living room and sat down on the sofa. The fire crackled softly in the background, giving everything a cheery glow.
I sipped my wine and tried to calm my restless heart. “I can’t believe tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”
He paused, and I knew then something was on his mind. “Will you tell me something?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
I nodded.
“Do you have any family? Anyone who’s going to be missing you on Christmas?”
Stalling, I looked down into my glass of wine.
Austen had been nothing but up front with me. He’d shared his space, his food, and his family. He’d made a few of my goals come true too. I owed him the truth—at least some of it. The rest of it, I hoped he’d never need to know.
“Unfortunately, no. I lost my parents last April.”
Austen didn’t say anything. He just placed his hand on top of mine. “Ella ...”
I looked up then and met his eyes. The quiet look of understanding he gave me cut through me like a knife. There was no hiding from this man. Just because I hadn’t told him my whole sad life story didn’t mean he was clueless. I was certain then that he could see right through me and knew exactly why I’d been running. Pretty sure he summed up in those four seconds that my bucket list and all the adventures I’d planned were a diversion tactic for what I really wanted in life but could never get back.
Tears filled my eyes, clouding my vision. I felt Austen remove the wineglass from my hands and heard him set it on the coffee table. Then he pulled me close, wrapping me in his strong arms. He held me as I cried.
Gosh, why was I even crying? This was stupid. I’d spent months and months crying. I thought I was through this stage of grief.
But I knew then, as the pain of my parents’ loss cut through me again, that I’d never been done with the grief—not with any of it. The shock of it, the anger I felt. And certainly not the part where I missed them. It hadn’t gone anywhere, even if I was able to move forward some days.
Austen didn’t rush me, just held me while I cried into his shoulder. He rubbed slow circles on my back with one big steady hand and comforted me.
After several minutes, I finally got myself under control. And somehow, I felt lighter.
“I’m so sorry, Ella,” he said somberly. “I had no idea.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “I know.”
“Tell me their names. What they were like.” He gave me a sad smile, and I cupped his face with one hand, pressing my thumb against the dimple in his cheek.
“Stephanie and Dennis.” I hadn’t spoken their names in a while, but the words were a comfort to me. Familiar. “Mom was a hairstylist. She was funny and outspoken. Could talk to anyone. Kind of like you, I guess.”
Austen smiled at the compliment. “She sounds great.”
“She was. Her regular clients always said she could charge double if she wanted to because an hour in her salon chair was like an hour of free therapy. She really listened, you know? To people’s problems. Their lives. And she always wanted to help. And shedidhelp them. She was great.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “And what about your dad? What was he like?”
I let out a sad little sound that was half sob, half laugh. “He was a force of nature. He took care of everything for Mom and me. He worked so hard. Made sure I had everything I needed growing up. He was a good man.”
Right down to the life insurance policies that made sure I was okay. Dad was still taking care of me, even now.
I wiped my eyes, glad I hadn’t bothered with makeup after my shower. Austen rose from the sofa only long enough to bring me a box of tissues, and then he settled in beside me again.
I blew my nose and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Since we’re sharing ... what about you? Has it always been just your mom?” I had wondered if his parents were divorced or if Natalie was maybe widowed, but it had never come up and I hadn’t wanted to pry.
He shook his head. “My dad left when I was young. There was a terrible accident ... after, well, things were never quite the same.”
