The Ending I Want
Page 62
Bernie insisted that we all have the seven-course meal.
I know, right? Seven courses? They might have to roll me out of here.
But Bernie assures me that each course is small, so I’ll be fine.
We’re waiting for the first course to come out, which is wild garlic soup. Thank God Liam is eating the same thing, or I wouldn’t be kissing him later.
“So, what do you do back home in Boston?” Bernie asks me.
“I recently graduated.” Six months ago, and then I was coasting, unsure of what to do—until I got sick, and then I knew what to do.
“What did you graduate in?”
“English literature.” I pick my wine glass up and take a sip.
“Book lover?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Liam, did you show Taylor the library?”
“I did.”
“And I’ve got my eye on moving in there,” I joke.
“Well, you’d be more than welcome. You’re a much prettier sight than Archie,” Bernie says, making us all laugh. He takes a drink of his wine and puts his glass down. “What about your parents, Taylor? What do your parents do?”
I freeze in the middle of lowering my glass to the table. The temperature in the room drops a thousand degrees.
I know Liam is tense beside me. But I can’t look at him.
Then, I feel his hand cover mine, the one I am clenching into a fist in my lap.
The moment Liam’s hand touches mine, I feel grounded. His touch brings me back to the now.
My eyes go to his. The look in them washes over me like a safety net, catching and holding me carefully in place.
I release the breath I was holding. I put my glass the rest of the way down and moisten my dry lips before speaking, “My parents passed away.”
Passed away.
It sounds so calm, so easy, when said that way.
Nothing about how they died was calm or easy.
They died because of me.
But I can’t say that out loud because it would make them feel uncomfortable.
And if I’m being true to myself, I don’t want Liam to know.
I don’t want to change the way he looks at me. And if he knew, it would change. He wouldn’t like me or think of me in the same way.
I don’t want to lose that in the time I have left with him.
Liam’s hand is still covering my fist. Relaxing my fingers, I turn my palm over to meet his. Our fingers slide together, joining that one part of our bodies.
I can feel Liam’s eyes on me. But I don’t look at him.
Because I’m afraid, if I do, I might just crack and break.
So, I look at Bernie. His expression hasn’t changed, and I appreciate that very much. He’s not looking at me with sympathy that I don’t deserve. He’s just looking at me.
“I am sorry to hear about your parents, Taylor.”
“Thank you.”
I really hate saying thank you, but what else can I say? Don’t apologize. It was my fault they died. I killed them. No, I definitely can’t say that.
“Do you have any siblings?”
I did…but not anymore.
I shake my head in answer. Talking about my parents is bad enough, but I can’t talk about Parker and Tess. At least my parents had some life. They went to college. Fell in love. Had jobs. Had children.
Parker’s and Tess’s lives were just starting when I stole it from them.
“My wife died when she was thirty-five,” Bernie tells me.
And even though we’re still talking death, I’m relieved not to be talking about my family anymore.
“Cervical cancer. Liam’s father was five at the time. It’s tough, losing someone you love.”
I see his eyes flicker to Liam, and I know that Bernie is thinking of Liam’s mother.
I move my gaze to Liam. His eyes are already on me. I feel this swooping sensation in my stomach along with safety. I feel safe in his eyes.
The doors to the room open, and the waiters come in with our soup, putting a halt to any more conversation for now.
“Thank you so much for dinner,” I say to Bernie.
We’ve just arrived back at Hunter Hall, and we are standing in the ginormous hallway.
“You don’t have to thank me. The pleasure was all mine, Taylor.”
“You fancy a nightcap, Grandpa?” Liam asks Bernie.
“No, I’m going to head to bed. But you two youngsters go ahead.”
“You up for a drink, Boston?” Liam turns to me.
I’m feeling a little wiped out after all that food and wine. The seven courses were small, but I’m stuffed.
I still find myself saying yes to Liam though because I’m not ready for the night to be over just yet.
“Good night, Taylor.” Bernie kisses me on the cheek.
“Good night,” I say.
He hugs Liam. “Night, boy.”
“Night, Grandpa.”
We both watch Bernie head for the sweeping staircase.
“Oh, and the good brandy’s in the decanter in the drawing room,” he calls over his shoulder to us.
Liam chuckles, and then he takes ahold of my hand and tugs on it, leading me across the hall, heading for the drawing room.
“The good brandy? Or something else?” Liam asks, walking over to the drink cabinet.
“It’d be rude not to have the good brandy.” I smile.
Liam gets two brandy glasses out and then pours in the brandy from the decanter. He carries them over to me and hands me mine.
“Cheers.” He holds his glass up to mine.
“Cheers.” I clink my glass against his and then take a drink.
It is good brandy but strong.
“That has some kick to it.” I blow out a whistling breath.
I know, right? Seven courses? They might have to roll me out of here.
But Bernie assures me that each course is small, so I’ll be fine.
We’re waiting for the first course to come out, which is wild garlic soup. Thank God Liam is eating the same thing, or I wouldn’t be kissing him later.
“So, what do you do back home in Boston?” Bernie asks me.
“I recently graduated.” Six months ago, and then I was coasting, unsure of what to do—until I got sick, and then I knew what to do.
“What did you graduate in?”
“English literature.” I pick my wine glass up and take a sip.
“Book lover?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Liam, did you show Taylor the library?”
“I did.”
“And I’ve got my eye on moving in there,” I joke.
“Well, you’d be more than welcome. You’re a much prettier sight than Archie,” Bernie says, making us all laugh. He takes a drink of his wine and puts his glass down. “What about your parents, Taylor? What do your parents do?”
I freeze in the middle of lowering my glass to the table. The temperature in the room drops a thousand degrees.
I know Liam is tense beside me. But I can’t look at him.
Then, I feel his hand cover mine, the one I am clenching into a fist in my lap.
The moment Liam’s hand touches mine, I feel grounded. His touch brings me back to the now.
My eyes go to his. The look in them washes over me like a safety net, catching and holding me carefully in place.
I release the breath I was holding. I put my glass the rest of the way down and moisten my dry lips before speaking, “My parents passed away.”
Passed away.
It sounds so calm, so easy, when said that way.
Nothing about how they died was calm or easy.
They died because of me.
But I can’t say that out loud because it would make them feel uncomfortable.
And if I’m being true to myself, I don’t want Liam to know.
I don’t want to change the way he looks at me. And if he knew, it would change. He wouldn’t like me or think of me in the same way.
I don’t want to lose that in the time I have left with him.
Liam’s hand is still covering my fist. Relaxing my fingers, I turn my palm over to meet his. Our fingers slide together, joining that one part of our bodies.
I can feel Liam’s eyes on me. But I don’t look at him.
Because I’m afraid, if I do, I might just crack and break.
So, I look at Bernie. His expression hasn’t changed, and I appreciate that very much. He’s not looking at me with sympathy that I don’t deserve. He’s just looking at me.
“I am sorry to hear about your parents, Taylor.”
“Thank you.”
I really hate saying thank you, but what else can I say? Don’t apologize. It was my fault they died. I killed them. No, I definitely can’t say that.
“Do you have any siblings?”
I did…but not anymore.
I shake my head in answer. Talking about my parents is bad enough, but I can’t talk about Parker and Tess. At least my parents had some life. They went to college. Fell in love. Had jobs. Had children.
Parker’s and Tess’s lives were just starting when I stole it from them.
“My wife died when she was thirty-five,” Bernie tells me.
And even though we’re still talking death, I’m relieved not to be talking about my family anymore.
“Cervical cancer. Liam’s father was five at the time. It’s tough, losing someone you love.”
I see his eyes flicker to Liam, and I know that Bernie is thinking of Liam’s mother.
I move my gaze to Liam. His eyes are already on me. I feel this swooping sensation in my stomach along with safety. I feel safe in his eyes.
The doors to the room open, and the waiters come in with our soup, putting a halt to any more conversation for now.
“Thank you so much for dinner,” I say to Bernie.
We’ve just arrived back at Hunter Hall, and we are standing in the ginormous hallway.
“You don’t have to thank me. The pleasure was all mine, Taylor.”
“You fancy a nightcap, Grandpa?” Liam asks Bernie.
“No, I’m going to head to bed. But you two youngsters go ahead.”
“You up for a drink, Boston?” Liam turns to me.
I’m feeling a little wiped out after all that food and wine. The seven courses were small, but I’m stuffed.
I still find myself saying yes to Liam though because I’m not ready for the night to be over just yet.
“Good night, Taylor.” Bernie kisses me on the cheek.
“Good night,” I say.
He hugs Liam. “Night, boy.”
“Night, Grandpa.”
We both watch Bernie head for the sweeping staircase.
“Oh, and the good brandy’s in the decanter in the drawing room,” he calls over his shoulder to us.
Liam chuckles, and then he takes ahold of my hand and tugs on it, leading me across the hall, heading for the drawing room.
“The good brandy? Or something else?” Liam asks, walking over to the drink cabinet.
“It’d be rude not to have the good brandy.” I smile.
Liam gets two brandy glasses out and then pours in the brandy from the decanter. He carries them over to me and hands me mine.
“Cheers.” He holds his glass up to mine.
“Cheers.” I clink my glass against his and then take a drink.
It is good brandy but strong.
“That has some kick to it.” I blow out a whistling breath.
