Page 103 of Leather & Lark
“He’ll drop me off. And then I guess that’s that.” Rose shrugs. Sadness etches itself deeper into her features, even though she triesto hide it. I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. I know how it feels to try to maintain a mirage for someone else’s benefit while you crumble behind the illusion. But Rose wears her heart wide open for everyone to see, and it’s only a second or two before tears well in her eyes.
I don’t tell her it will be okay. I don’t know if that’s true, and I don’t want to pretend that comments like that are anything more than platitudes. Not anymore. Not for myself nor for anyone else. So instead, I hold Rose’s hand across the table and tell her what I really feel. “I’m going to miss you.”
Rose nods. “I’m going to miss you too,” she whispers. Her smile is brittle and my chest aches in reply. “You know what they say about the circus.”
“What, that the show must go on?”
“No,” she says. “That the show can’t begin until you jump.”
I’m caught in Rose’s words and her shimmering dark eyes when her phone vibrates with a text to break the spell between us. With a glance at the screen, she slides the device off the table and pockets it.
“Doc’s here. Guess I’ll see you around. Don’t be a stranger.”
We both stand and crush each other in a hug. The tremble in Rose’s shoulders cracks my heart and fills it with both pain and anger on her behalf. I know whatever is happening with Fionn is none of my business and she doesn’t seem willing to get into it in detail, but I can’t help but make a dig at him. “Maybe Lachlan wasn’t the asshat of the Kanes after all,” I whisper, and Rose laughs in my arms.
“Yeah. Maybe not,” Rose says as she places a kiss on my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Boss Hostler.”
With a final, weak smile, Rose turns away and leaves the coffee shop. I watch as she opens the door to a car waiting at the curb and disappears inside.
It’s a short walk home and I use most of it to text back and forth with Sloane. She and Rowan are spending a weekend in Martha’s Vineyard to bask in their newlywed bliss, something I guess I’m starting to feel too, even though it’s all been a little backward for Lachlan and me. But does that really matter? There’s a worn path in life that most people take when they wind up married. Fall in love first. Make your vows. But maybe I was never meant to be on it. It surprises me more than anyone when I realize that I’m happy where I am.
I’m thinking about that epiphany as I enter the apartment and send Lachlan a text to let him know I’ve arrived home. I set my mobile down to spend a little time playing with Bentley, who grabs the stuffed squeaky skull that Lachlan bought him last week. We’re playing tug-of-war when my phone vibrates on the coffee table with an incoming call.
The rush I just felt expecting to see Lachlan’s contact on my screen is washed away when it’s my mother’s details that appear instead.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Honey.”
I already know what she’s going to say next.
There’s a vortex in time right before the words come that feels even worse than the moment you hear them spoken aloud. It’s like waiting for the anticipation of a needle—you know the hurt will come, but imagining it is sometimes worse than the moment it slides into your skin.
“Auntie Ethel passed away.”
That pain still hits me like an ax to the chest. Tears fall freely down my face. We all knew this was coming. I thought about it every day. And yet it still feels like a hole has erupted inside me, a void that seems gravitational. Unfillable. Like it was made to only consume.
The tears don’t stop as my mom gives me the details. That Ethel passed in her sleep. It was peaceful. She says all the things that are supposed to be a minor comfort in the aftermath of loss. And then she talks about the practicalities that don’t stop for grief, not even for a moment. Mom sounds tentative when she asks if I want to meet them at Shoreview before the funeral home comes to take Ethel’s body away. She barely gets the question out before I tell her yes, to wait until I get there. And though my mom doesn’t ask outright about Lachlan, he’s the first person whose presence I crave. His quiet countenance. His steady shadow to my faltering light. There’s comfort knowing he’s seen more of me than I’ve been willing to share, and yet he doesn’t back away.
As soon as my mom hangs up, I select Lachlan’s number from my list of favorites. I try to compose myself, but the room seems to pulse with every beat of my heart, a watery film obscuring my vision.
Lachlan answers on the first ring. “Hey, duchess. I was just thinking about you.”
“Hi.”
That’s it. That’s all I need to say. Just one short word. A breath of sorrow.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay? Where are you?”
For a man who doesn’t say more than he has to, the barrage of questions almost makes me smile despite the pain that fills every crevice of my chest.
“Ethel,” I say around the stone lodged in my throat. “She passed.”
“Oh, Lark, I’m so sorry, love. I can come get you. What do you need?”
“It’ll be faster if we just meet at the nursing home.” I start gathering my belongings into my bag and head to the kitchen to refill Bentley’s water as he trails behind me. “My parents should be nearly there. I’ll grab an Uber.”
“You sure?”
