Until Harry(35)

I chuckled. “You knew this would happen, then?”

“I knew you’d be very successful at what you do, so yes, I did know. You’re rocking that city.”

I laughed. “I’m over the moon. Finally, something good has happened to me.”

“Will you still freelance?” my uncle questioned.

“Of course,” I said, nodding enthusiastically. “Indie authors are superstars, and it’s because of one of them that I’m getting job offers like this in the first place.”

“Good on you, darling. I’m so proud of you, and your parents will be delighted with the news.”

I slumped a little. “Do you think so?”

“Lane, of course. They’re so proud of all the books and articles you’ve edited. I told you that your father and I read everything you work on.”

That touched my heart in a way that I couldn’t describe.

“I can imagine you both huddled around the kitchen table discussing the books,” I said, laughing.

“We have to sit in the sitting room; your nanny and her friends knit at the table now.”

That caused me to laugh harder.

“You should call your brothers and give them the great news.”

“I don’t think so,” I grumbled. “I called on their birthday, and when I told Lochlan to stop asking me to come home, he told me never to call him again. I’m just abiding by his wishes.”

My uncle shook his head. “You’re every bit of your brothers: stubborn beyond compare.”

I grinned. “Like you aren’t stubborn?”

“I am,” he agreed. “I’m just not as bad as you and your brothers.”

I groaned. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m just mentioning something that you don’t like hearing.”

I rolled my eyes. “What did you do today?”

He thought on it, then said, “I went up to your aunt’s grave and put down fresh flowers. I put some on your friend’s grave too.”

My voice was tight with emotion.

“Thanks, Uncle Harry,” I said. “You’re the best.”

“That’d be you, darling.”



I blinked a couple of times when Kale moved next to me. Looking around, I realised the mass was over. The priest came down to my family and shook each of our hands as he offered his condolences. I couldn’t reply to him, so Kale did it for me.

“Thank you, Father,” he said.

I retook my mother’s and grandmother’s hands as Kale, my brothers, my father and two footmen lifted my uncle’s coffin back onto their shoulders and walked him out of the church, with everyone in attendance following slowly behind. Once my uncle was safely placed inside the hearse, we got back into the black car and journeyed to my uncle’s house for one final drive-by.

It hurt like hell.

It tore me up as we passed by the house and headed to his final resting place at York Cemetery. Everything seemed to fly by at that point. Within a blink of the eye, we were at the gravesite, standing next to the grave plot as my uncle’s coffin was lowered down into the ground and the priest spoke his prayers.

A friend of my mother’s passed a single red rose to each of my family members and Kale, for us to throw down on top of my uncle’s coffin. I was the last person to throw my rose, but before I let it fall, I kissed the petals and whispered, “I’ll miss you forever.”

The rose seemed to fall in slow motion and landed on the nameplate of the coffin, where my uncle’s name was engraved as clear as day. The priest spoke some more about what a well-loved man my uncle had been and how many lives he had touched.

Not long later, “Time to Say Goodbye” by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman began to play once the priest had said his final prayers. I managed to hold it together for the first minute of the song, but as soon as the chorus began to play, and the words “time to say goodbye” were sung, I broke down.

Arms came around me from behind, and a face rested against the side of mine.

“He’ll always be with you,” Kale’s gruff voice whispered.

I sobbed and turned into his body, holding onto him as I cried through the heartbreak that was surging through me. I didn’t know how long I cried, but I was soon in my parents’ arms as we wept for my uncle. People began to leave then, once the song drew to a close, signalling the end of the funeral.

I looked through the crowd of people that was dispersing, and my eyes landed on Kale. He was standing in front of Kaden’s grave, which was only thirty or so plots down from my aunt and uncle’s grave. He was staring at the headstone with his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his slacks. I was about to walk over to him, simply to be there for him, like he had been for me, but I froze to the spot when, out of nowhere, I saw Drew making her way over to Kale.

I took the time to take her in, noticing that while she still very much looked the same, her face showed signs of her loss. It wasn’t as vibrant as I remembered. I didn’t know if she spoke to Kale when she reached his side, but he glanced down to her and, taking his left hand from his pocket, put his arm around her shoulder, hugging her to him before they both turned their focus to the headstone of their son.

Jealousy swirled around in my stomach, and I wanted to beat myself into a pulp because of it. Why did I still have to feel envious at the sight of them together when it was so obvious that the only connection between them now was the memory of their lost son?