Thirty-Four
Nathaniel
“Winston Rose passed away yesterday,” Rosa said, addressing the meeting. She took a breath, as if to steady herself but then started sobbing. “He will be greatly missed. He was our boss for so many years, but also a great friend.”
No. No, it can’t be true. He can’t be gone. I’d thrown Presley out because I hadn’t been told Winston was dying. Thrown. Her. Out. And now he was gone. I was a fucking hypocrite. She lost her dad . . . The urge to turn this entire conference table over and scream grew with each passing second, but what good would that do? It wouldn’t bring him back. It wouldn’t change the course of the last week and—
“Where’s Presley?” Victor asked.
Why the fuck had that not been my first question? Where was she? How did she find out? Was she with him when he—
“Will there be a funeral?”
“Winston asked for everything to be delayed two weeks. He’ll be embalmed and the family will have a private service. When I have more information, I’ll let you know.”
“Where’s Presley?” Victor asked again, pulling out his phone this time and calling. I banged my fist on the table. He looked at me. “You know where she is?”
My heart sank. Fuck. He’d called me right after I’d had my argument with Presley and I’d ignored the call. I’d ignored all of his calls these last few days. It had always been my biggest fear. After losing my father, I’d made a vow to speak to everyone, regardless of how upset I was, and here I was, a fucking hypocrite. How many times had I told Presley to be kinder? To give him a chance? To forgive him when I knew he’d been a little too pushy with her, and I hadn’t even answered his phone call. Sadness burned in my chest. I clenched my fist, trying to control it.
The urge to turn this entire conference table over and scream grew with each passing second, but what good would that do? It wouldn’t bring him back. It wouldn’t change the course of the last week and a half.
“Where’s Presley?” Victor asked.
I knew the guy was married but I shot him a glare anyway because he beat me to the question. Not that I had any right whatsoever to ask it anyway. I’d kicked her out of my apartment and hadn’t called since. I was still pissed off at her, though now that I was sitting here receiving this news, I felt like shit to have turned her away like that. Had she been alone when she got the news? She obviously hadn’t called me, so who did she call? Had she run back to her ex-husband for comfort? Fuck. I needed to stop thinking about it. It was selfish of me to want her to run to me with things like this when I hadn’t even given her a chance to grieve with me before he left this earth.
“Will there be a funeral?” another guy asked.
“Winston asked for everything to be delayed two weeks. He’ll be embalmed and the family will have a private service. When I have more information, I’ll let you know.”
“Where’s Presley?” Victor asked again, pulling out his phone this time and calling. I banged my fist on the table. He looked at me. “You know where she is?”
“No, I don’t know where the fuck she is but even if I did, how is it any of your business? Do you need her to sign something? Read her will to her? What the fuck do you want?”
“I’m her friend.” He stood up and headed outside. “I want to be there for her. Something you obviously don’t know a thing about.”
I blinked. The spare key I’d given her burned my thigh. Had she spoken to him about me? I stood up, grabbed my phone before leaving the room. I started calling her. It didn’t even ring, went straight to voicemail. I ran over to the elevator, but Victor was already gone. I ran to my office, got my keys.
“Where is she?” I asked Rosa, who was stepping out of the conference room.
She shook her head. “That poor girl.”
“Was she with him when it happened?” My chest tightened.
“She called the ambulance and rode with him to the hospital.” Rosa wiped her face, unable to fight more sobs. “She was told he was dead and had to identify his body. She was alone. Completely alone.”
Alone. The word burned inside my brain. I’d had my mother when my dad died. I’d had Winston and most of Dad’s life-long friends who worked in the brewery. Presley had no one. Her mom was in Greece, I hadn’t been on speaking terms with her, her friends obviously hadn’t been called according to Victor’s reaction. Why would she want to go through this alone? What was she doing? What was she thinking?
I ran to the elevator, hoping to get to her before anyone else did. If anyone knew what she was going through, it was me.
Thirty-Five
Presley
I left to Mikonos with my mom. She’d been home three days before convincing me to leave with her. It’s what my father would have wanted, she’d said. I wasn’t sure whether or not that was true, but it was what I needed right now. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d left everything prepared so I wouldn’t go through too much while dealing with his death. He’d planned everything down to the exact casket he wanted to be buried in. The funeral wouldn’t take place for another two weeks, and I’d definitely be back by then. Mom had Constantine’s private jet on standby and was happy when I told her I’d go with her. I’d sent Mom’s driver to get me a new phone and called Victor and told him my plans before leaving, and he also told me it was a good idea. Everything would still be here when I got back, he’d said. Nicole also called to give her condolences. I asked them not to give my new number to anyone. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be keeping it for. I thought of how often Dad had told me I couldn’t keep running away from my problems by changing my number, but it was easier to deal with things in the moment if I started over with a new one.
Constantine’s house sat on top of a hill that overlooked Mikonos. It was the most marvelous thing I’d ever seen in my life, and I’d honeymooned in Croatia, which was gorgeous, so that was saying a lot. The beauty didn’t keep me outdoors, though. Not the first few days I was there. I was still too busy crying in the bedroom that had been assigned to me. Mom cried with me most days.
“The guilt is eating away at me,” she said. “I apologized to him for everything I put him through, but I never thanked him for everything he did for me.”
“Not everything is about you, Mom.”
“Presley,” she gasped. “I have a right to mourn as well.”
“I know.” I shook my head and took a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . I want to go home. I know I said I’d stay here, but I miss my bed. I miss . . .” I sniffled. I missed making breakfast for Dad. I missed setting tickets on top of his desk for our next adventure. I missed talking to him and watching movies with him. I missed him—period. I must have said some of this aloud because Mom wrapped her arms around me and held me tight.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but he’s not there.” She pulled away, setting a hand on my head. “He’s here.” She took the same hand and put it on my chest. “And here.” She wiped my face. “And what’s in our hearts never dies.”
I stayed. I was glad I did because three days later, I felt a little more like myself and even went out to eat with Mom and Constantine. The following night, he invited his nephew Alexander out with us. I could totally see why Mom was constantly trying to push him off on me. He was tall and handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes and a perfect angular jaw. He looked like a well-shaven Viking. He was also very polite and kind and attentive, but as we sat in the restaurant and every single woman seemed to have something to say to him or about him I thought of Adam and the way that turned out. Even if I didn’t like Nathaniel as much as I did, I would never put myself in that situation again. I said this to my mother later that night, who thought it was the most amusing thing I’d ever said.
“You don’t have to marry the guy, Presley.” She eyed me carefully. “Are you in love with Nate?”
“You call him Nate too?”
“Well, your father always did. What do you call him?”
“Nathaniel.” I
frowned, then smiled. “Other things when we’re . . . you know.”
She laughed. “Well, in that case, I’ll stop trying to make you and Alexander happen.”
“Thank you,” I breathed out. “I think I’m ready to go home.”
“Because of Nathaniel?”
“No. Hell no. I’m never talking to him again.”
She blinked. “But you just—”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I want to speak to him. He’s an asshole, and I hate him.”
Mom shook her head, but agreed to go back home with me.
Thirty-Six
The hardest part about losing someone close to you was that you felt their absence in the simplest things. I’d never cared to go to any baseball games, but even as I continued receiving the two tickets I’d purchased from my connection at the stadium, I felt the need to call my dad and tell him about it. Then I realized there was no one to call and became sad all over again.
“Do you want to just cancel the tickets?” Mom asked, coming to the couch and sitting beside me. I’d been staying at her apartment since we got back.
“Tickets can’t be canceled. I can re-sell them, but that feels weird.” I rested my head back and closed my eyes. “We only have tickets to five home games anyway. I was supposed to buy one for another stadium once we were done with these. I guess he didn’t feel well enough to travel but didn’t want to tell me.”
“You don’t even like baseball. Why not cancel the whole thing?” Mom shook her head. “Damn Winston. So stubborn.”
“Yeah.” I smiled.
“When is the next game?”
“Tonight.”
“Well, we’re not going to let the tickets go to waste, are we?” She stood up. I smiled and followed her to her room. She walked into the closet and back out with a huge jersey. “This is too big on me, right? I can’t even wear it as a dress?”
“Is that signed?” I walked forward and picked up the fabric. “Mom. This is signed by one of the best baseball players ever. Constantine would kill you if he found out you even touched this. Put it back.”
“Damn it.” She walked back into the closet.
I sat on the corner of her bed. It felt weird to sit in here. Before Dad died I’d never been in this room longer than a minute. I was always afraid he’d find out I was hanging out here and would think I was betraying him the way she had. Mom hadn’t cheated on Dad with Constantine. She met him years after the divorce. He was nice though, and Dad had treated it all like water under the bridge anytime he spoke about it, so I was getting used to sitting here. I shimmied and got a little more comfortable.
“You don’t have to make a big deal about it, Mom,” I said. “We’re not meeting the players or anything. I’m wearing what I’m wearing now.”
“Yeah, but you always look cute. You have youth on your side,” she said from the closet. “Besides, how do you know a player won’t see you sitting there and want to talk to you after the game?”
I snorted. “Have you ever been to a major league game?”
“No. I’ve been to college games though,” she said. “That’s where I met your dad.”
“At a college baseball game?”
“Football.”
“Okay, entirely different sport.” I frowned. “Were you dating a player?”
“No.”
“So I’m seriously not understanding what this has anything to do with the fact that a major league player isn’t going to see me and fall in love with me from the field.”
“Yeah, me either. I’m just trying to keep you entertained so you’ll let me change and do my makeup.”
I laughed and fell back onto the bed, closing my eyes.
“Have you spoken to Nate?”
“No.”
“You’re not going to call?”
“Nope.”
“How is he supposed to try to win you back if he can’t get hold of you?”
“I don’t know and don’t care. I can’t even stand the thought of seeing him right now.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “What about the brewery? When will you go back there?”
“Thursday night.”
“After the funeral?” she asked. “So basically you’re going when everyone else is going.”
“I’ll probably go by in the morning to make sure everything will be ready for after the funeral.”
“Okay.” She sounded closer now, so I opened my eyes and pushed myself onto my elbows.
“Did you even change?”
“Yeah, these jeans are the ones I don’t mind getting dirty.”
“How would you . . .” I shook my head as I stood up. “Mom, this isn’t a little league game.”
“Let’s go. The driver’s waiting for us by the front door.”
I followed her out without saying another word. This was surely going to be an interesting experience.
Thirty-Seven
Nathaniel
I’d been going to the brewery every day in hopes to catch Presley there, and every day they’d told me the same thing: not yet. Not yet. Not yet. I understood her need to take a break from this. I was sure it wasn’t easy to be reminded of her father when she came here, or home for that matter, but she couldn’t avoid those things forever. And so, here I was, once again, knowing they’d tell me not yet. Except this time, they didn’t.
“She’s around here somewhere,” Maya, one of the bartenders said. “She wanted to be here personally to help set things up for her father’s . . . for tonight.”
For tonight. It had been thirteen days since Winston’s passing, and it still felt so wrong. He’d called me right after I’d had my argument with Presley and I’d ignored the call. I’d ignored all of his calls those last few days. It had always been my biggest fear. After losing my father, I’d made a vow to speak to everyone, regardless of how upset I was, and here I was, a fucking hypocrite. How many times had I told Presley to be kinder? To give him a chance? To forgive him when I knew he’d been a little too pushy with her, and I hadn’t even answered his phone call. Sadness burned in my chest. I clenched my fist, trying to control it.
I nodded and thanked her as I walked away, in search for Presley. Her key was still in my pocket. I didn’t know why she’d given it back. That’s a lie. I’d been an asshole. That was why she gave it back, but I didn’t want it. I wanted her. I wanted her to keep this key forever and use it every day. I wanted her with me forever. The thought was jarring, but only for a second, because I knew that deep down I’d been wanting this for too long to be afraid of it. I needed to convince her that I was worthy of her. I was walking toward the back when a woman, walking backward, bumped into me. She turned around, ready to apologize, until she saw my face.
“Nate.”
“Elena.” I smiled.
I hadn’t seen her in years, but somehow she still looked the same. She’d always looked more like Presley’s older sister than her mother, though I knew from Winston that their resemblance started and ended there.
“I told her you’d come looking.” She didn’t seem pleased about this. My heart skipped. I’d really fucked up.
“Where is she?”
“She doesn’t want to see you,” she said. “I’m just warning you right now. She’s really upset with you.”
“I know. I messed up.”
Elena’s brows rose. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“I came to apologize.”
“Good luck.” She brushed past me. “She’s out back talking to Ezra.”
“Thanks.” I started walking until she called my name, then turned around and faced her.
“Don’t think that just because you’ve grown up to be this hunk of a guy she’s going to take you back easily.”
“I would never think that.” I felt myself smile as I turned and kept walking.
I found her talking to Ezra, just as her mom had said she’d be. They seemed to be having a serious conversation, so I waited by the door a while, watching her. She was
wearing black pants and a black coat, her soft waves looked like fire in contrast to her apparel. She looked beautiful and tender and I felt like kicking myself all over again. After a moment, I couldn’t take it anymore and started walking toward them. She glanced up, her eyes widening in alarm when she saw me. There was no elation in her expression. She looked tired and wary and I hated being the cause of the latter. Ezra seemed to take a hint and left quietly as I reached them. I thought she’d slap me. Instead, she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. The relief I felt threatened to take us both down, but I managed to put my arms around her.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered against her head.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone.” Her small body shook against my chest.
“I’m sorry.” I held her tighter. “I’m sorry he’s gone, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
She pulled away, wiping the tears from her face. “I heard you’ve been coming by here.”
“Every day. Your apartment too but you never come to the door.”
“I haven’t been staying there.”
“I realized it after the sixth day.” I half-smiled, half-laughed. “Well, I hoped that was the case after the sixth day.”
“I haven’t been really up for visitors,” she said.
“I understand.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to remind myself not to reach for her. I gripped the key in my fingers. “I really messed up, Presley.” I reached for her hand despite myself. “I shouldn’t have gone off on you like I did. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine.” She shook her head. “Well, it’s not fine, but I have other things on my mind right now.”
I reached for the key in my pocket, but just as I was about to drop it in her hand, she yanked it away. My gaze shot to hers.
“I don’t want it,” she said.
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