Marry Screw Kill(31)

“His nephew? Will he be at brunch, too?” Emma looks at me pointedly.

“I think so. James mentioned it this morning.”

“Not to get off topic, but this nephew … I’ll need details about him before we leave. Like his name and looks. He has to be smart if he’s at The Clinic.”

“His name is Sinclair, but he goes by Sin.”

“Whoa. Stop there.” Emma fans herself with the notepad and lifts a brow. “Tell me more. Like when can I meet him?”

I laugh, then think of Sin being attracted her. It makes my stomach roil. Emma’s beyond beautiful and sharp as a tack, she would be a good match for an up-and-coming doctor.

“He’s the opposite of James, looks wise.” I leave it at that. No need to tell her his golden brown eyes are so stunning, it’s hard to believe they’re real.

“Do you mind if I crash brunch with you?” Emma pouts and puts on a cute, no-way-you’re-telling-me-no face. “I want to see James in action and meet this nephew.”

“Sure.” I cringe, knowing James will not like me inviting Emma to our usual Sunday morning routine. I’ll try to pass it off as her needing to talk about the wedding. “Okay. Meet us here at ten o’clock.”

“Sounds good. Think about what we talked about today. I am here for you if you need help in any way. Like moving in with me, it’s an option.”

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I don’t know if I can be what James wants.”

“Be who you truly are. If he doesn’t like the real you, then leave him,” she admonishes.

“The real me,” I repeat. I have no clue who I am.

“Yes, the real you.” She eyes me with determination. “I’ve read your poetry. You’re a poet with a sensitive heart and have been an old soul since the day we met.”

“That’s what my mother called me. An old soul.” I smile. “Sometimes I felt like I was more the parent. She was so carefree.”

“She was, and loved you so. She would want the best for you, too.”

“True. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” I just need your strength.

“I try.” We stand up and I hug her tight. A lump forms in my throat as emotions begin surfacing inside me.

Emma pulls away, scans my face, and I try to paint on my best smile for her. I hope it works.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” She must’ve bought my plastered on happiness because she nods her head. I’m relieved.

We walk back inside the club and I stop at the entrance to the bar.

“I’m going to say goodbye to Paul.” I motion my head toward him.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. And thanks for everything, Emma.”

“I’m thankful to finally have you back.” Emma hugs me tight before turning to head toward the exit.

She sashays away in her three-inch heels, a tight pencil skirt, and silk blouse, her brown, wavy hair bouncing in rhythm with her steps.

Turning toward the bar, Paul has a large group of customers standing in front of him. I catch his eye and wave goodbye. He waves back at me with a big smile on his face.

He’s the closest thing to a father I’ve had in my life and likely the only person who truly loved my mother. A part of my heart breaks for her, and for me, too.

Where would I be standing today if Paul had acted on his love for her? I close my eyes to push away the regret as I open the front door and walk outside.

The hot sun hits my cheeks and dries away any trace of tears as I walk to my car. I get inside my BMW, belt up, and sit silently for a few minutes with the car idling. My grip on the steering wheel tightens and I decide I can’t go home to the house I share with James.

The place calling to me is my mother’s final resting spot. I promised James I wouldn’t go visit her grave without him, but today, I need to talk to her alone.

I place the car into drive and leave the country club behind me, along with James’ wishes.





Chapter Fourteen


Harlow



I’ve walked the grounds of St. Johns Cemetery one other time in my life: the day of my mother’s interment. That day was like a journey into hell. James kept me upright by holding me tight against his chest while I tried to cry. The tears were hiding just below the surface, but they never fell. I was too numb from the tranquilizing pills I’d taken on his insistence. Today, I’m not even carrying them with me. My mind and heart belong to me alone.

Now, I stand at the edge of the cemetery’s interior road, alone in a place filled with hundreds of resting souls. I bow my head in a silent prayer, needing to lean on something stronger than myself. My fragile emotions are as delicate as a baby bird’s wing. If I have one slight twist in my heart, I’m afraid I’ll break apart.

Old memories from Sunday mornings remind me I’m never truly without God’s help. Resolved to press on, I open my eyes and start to walk forward through the scores of marked graves in front of me.

Though the sun shines bright overhead, my heels sink into the damp ground from yesterday’s summer storm. My pace slows as I release each shoe from its entrapment.

Step. Pull. Step. Pull.

Finally, I give up trying to fight Mother Nature and bend over to take off my heels. The cool, wet grass tickles my feet as I walk farther into the cemetery. The sensation between my toes reminds me of my childhood when I’d run barefoot through the fields near Lake Blackburn. It was my mother’s favorite place to escape with me during the summer months.