Audrey drifted toward the flower shop, eyes unfocused. The florist recognized her right away—she was a regular at Kisspresso. That connection was how she ended up with a fistful of peonies in a glass jar with a pink ribbon tied around the neck. Audrey hovered at the edge of the path that would take her to her mother’s plot.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said to herself. There was a trash can a few feet away—she could dump the flowers and head back outside to wait for Nicole. Or she could donate the flowers to another grave.
But something inside Audrey drew her up the path, operating her arms and legs like she was a puppet on strings. Her mind flicked between past and present until she reached her mother’s plot. She brushed her hands over the plaque, clearing the little twigs and other natural debris that the wind had blown across it. Her fingers caught on the raised lettering of her mother’s full name: Mary Patricia Miller.
Nobody had called her Mary. For some reason, she’d always been known as May. Maybe it was because she had that kind of personality—sunny, hopeful. Like a spring day.
Audrey’s knees sank into the wet grass, and she didn’t care one little bit about getting stains since her pants were already dirty. The flowers trembled in the glass, and Audrey realized she was shaking. It felt like there was a storm inside her, angry and thrashing.
“This is why I didn’t want to come here.” She shook her head, but the grief was too strong. It wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed, cutting off her air. Her words. Her blood.
Her chest heaved as she drew a deep breath, fighting against the boulder clogging her throat. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out. The breeze caught her cheeks, and they were cold. No, wet. Tears rolled unchecked down her face. Audrey’s hands tightened around the glass jar, the blood draining out of her joints, and she applied so much pressure it was a wonder the damn thing didn’t shatter.
“Why?” She dragged the word in through tight lungfuls of air. “Why didn’t they save you?”
Her chest was so tight she was worried her rib cage might crack from the pressure, but she couldn’t move. Everything poured out of her—everything she’d bottled up and swallowed down and tucked into a safe corner of her mind all came roaring out of her. It felt like she was being exorcised, that the ugliness of her emotions wasn’t really her.
Only it was.
“I hate you for leaving me,” she said, swiping at her cheek with the back of one hand. “I miss you so much.”
She placed the jar of flowers down and pressed her palm to the grave’s plaque and felt…something. It was like a vibration, so small it was barely perceptible—or maybe it was simply her imagination desperately searching for meaning—that rippled through Audrey’s body. She could almost feel her mother’s presence wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
“My life would have been so different if you were here.”
Ronan was right. She had a fear of living. A fear of the future. Because at fifteen, Audrey had thought she’d figured it out—top marks at her high school, acceptance into one of her dream universities, travelling around the world, a husband who loved and respected her, giving her parents some grandbabies to snuggle. But that had all been ripped from her grasp.
What was the point of planning for the future when life might take everything you wanted and rip it to shreds?
I’ve thought about you and me and what a life might look like.
Ronan’s words circled in her brain—he thought about their future. Thought about them together. Any time Audrey’s mind had wandered to what could be, she’d shut it down. Forced herself to think about something else.
The present was the only thing she could control—not what came before or what might come next. But now. Tomorrow was unknown. Next month was a blank page. Ten years from now…nothing. It was like her brain had been rebooted.
Wanting was pointless. Trusting was pointless.
“Audrey!”
At the sound of her name, she turned. Nicole rushed over to her, worry splashed across her face. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a pale blue top, and her long, dark hair swirled around her shoulders with the breeze.
“I was so worried.” Nicole all but skidded to a stop and dropped down next to her, wrapping her arms around Audrey’s shoulders. “I saw Big Red, and then I couldn’t find you, and you weren’t answering your phone…”
Audrey hadn’t even noticed it vibrating. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The two of them stayed like that, glued together, for what felt like an eternity. Nicole kept her arm like a vise around Audrey’s neck. But Audrey’s storm of emotions had started to quiet down, and for a second she almost felt…peaceful.
She hadn’t expected that. But there was something surprisingly cathartic about crying your eyes out, even if she did feel snottier than a toddler with a cold. When she snuffled, Nicole fished a tissue out of her handbag and handed it over.
“You okay?” she asked.
Audrey nodded. “I don’t know why I came here. I… The car broke down right outside, and it felt like…”
“Providence?” Nicole offered.
“Kinda.” Audrey sighed and toyed with the stem of one of the peonies. She had no idea if they were her mom’s favorite or not. After spending the last fourteen years so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, it was like her mind had erased some things that were too painful to remember.
But now she wished she’d hung onto those memories a little tighter. “Maybe it was time. Everything’s going to shit now anyway, so what’s one more thing to deal with?”
Nicole frowned but didn’t say anything.
“I broke up with Ronan,” Audrey explained.
“What happened?” Nicole placed a hand on Audrey’s arm.
“He…” She sighed. What the hell was she supposed to say?
He tried to help me, so I dumped him. He gave a shit about my future, so I dumped him. He treated me like he thought I could do anything, so I dumped him.
It didn’t make sense anywhere except in her head.
“He overstepped a boundary,” Audrey said eventually, biting down on her lip. “I told him that I hadn’t finished high school, and he took it upon himself to look into how I could get my diploma so I could be eligible for a college scholarship.”
“Okay.” Nicole bobbed her head. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”
“I told him I can’t do that.”
Audrey touched her fingertip to her mother’s grave, stroking and tracing the letters and numbers. Their birthdays were only one day apart, and her mother had always said Audrey was the best birthday present. Her mother had told her over and over as a kid that she could do great things. She’d wanted her to get good grades and set her sights high and dream big.
“What if I try, and my life gets better, and suddenly a terrible thing takes it all away again?” The words rushed out of Audrey like a freight train. There; she said it. Her greatest fear.
If life was good, she had too much to lose.
Loss equaled pain—she knew that already. Losing Ronan had hurt like having a limb carved off with a rusty spoon. Losing her mother had…ruined her.
“So it’s better to live an unsatisfying life because at least you have nothing to lose?” Nicole asked. “That’s a slippery slope, babe.”
“What if next time I end up like him?” She sucked in a shaky breath. “My dad was broken after my mom died, and he hasn’t recovered. I…I can’t be like him.”
“You won’t be like him. Ever,” Nicole said fiercely. “Because you’re stronger than he is. You’re smarter, and you have a bigger heart, and you care about others.”
Audrey swallowed and nodded. That all sounded true.
“Here’s the thing,” Nicole continued. “I’m going to sound real cynical for a minute, but hear me
out. Things can always be worse. Having a shitty situation now doesn’t protect you from having an even more shitty situation in the future. Therefore, this approach to not visiting your mom’s grave before today and not doing anything for yourself doesn’t guarantee protection. You could still be hit by a bus tomorrow.”
“Morbid much?” Audrey muttered.
“What I’m saying is, choosing not to live a satisfying life doesn’t protect you. So, if there is no way to protect yourself from bad things in the future…why not try to improve your situation?”
Like Ronan. Like the things she was passionate about in life.
“But I have to look after my family,” Audrey said.
“Yeah, you do. But you also have to look after yourself, because otherwise…what are you teaching Deanna? Would you want her to be in your shoes?”
“No.” The answer was so true the resonance of it rang through her body like a church bell. “I would never want her to do this.”
“I’m sure your mom would say the same for you,” Nicole said softly. “She wouldn’t have expected you to shoulder the burden of the whole family by yourself.”
“But if I don’t do it…” She shook her head.
“You have people who want to help you,” Nicole said. “Your aunt is always offering. And hell, maybe if you stopped supporting your dad, he might actually get off his ass and do something. He’s your parent, not the other way around.”
She was right. Her aunt was right. And Ronan was right.
“I think I’ve been hiding behind it all,” Audrey admitted. “Because nobody can argue with me if I say I need to care for my family. It’s a certified conversation stopper. But I’ve been using it as a shield to avoid…well, everything.”
It was easier to avoid. Easier to soldier on with the day-to-day.
“Do you really think Ronan overstepped by looking into some options for you?” Nicole asked. “If you think he did, then that’s totally fine. But maybe he really believes he has your best interests at heart.”
“At first I felt like he was saying I wasn’t good enough because I didn’t finish high school,” she said, cringing at how she’d reacted. It was nothing but a projection of her own fears and criticisms. “But I think that was me judging myself.”
“We all do it,” Nicole said, resting her head against Audrey’s shoulder. “You deserve an amazing life with a hot guy and loads of incredible sex and as many boring textbooks as your heart desires. Your mom would want all of those things for you, too.”
Audrey looked down at her mom’s grave. Her heart was achy and full and so very scarred, but coming here today hadn’t been the breaking point she thought it would be. It hurt, sure. But it also fueled her, and that was a hope-inducing surprise.
Audrey swallowed against the lump in her throat from all the crying. She couldn’t keep going on like she had been—because she was miserable. She’d been miserable for years, even though she tried her hardest not to let anyone see. She had obligations—more than most. But maybe that didn’t have to define her.
Maybe she didn’t have to be scared of the future…or of love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ronan walked up his grandmother’s street, trepidation in each step and the book in his hand heavy enough to sink the Titanic. After Audrey had left his apartment, he’d let the box of books sit untouched for almost three weeks. Then, after deciding he was sick of looking at the damn thing, he’d started to sort through it.
Lo and behold, there was a first edition inside, from the 1970s. It was a little beat-up, but the design was beautiful—a black hardback with gold details, including a depiction of the ever-present Poirot and his infamous mustache. The title had felt appropriate. Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case.
That’s what Ronan got for not believing in fate—a dark joke from the universe.
It seemed even more appropriate now, given coming here would mean facing his mother again. And any time he visited in the future.
He paused at the front door of the townhouse he’d lived in right up until he left for Harvard without a backward glance. Charlestown was as he remembered. The street was almost impossibly narrow, with cars jammed along one side and colorful clapboard houses sitting like rows of book spines on a shelf. The Bunker Hill Monument wasn’t far away, and there were younger families walking along the street, hand in hand. Some tourists, too, who’d probably wandered from the Freedom Trail to look at the historic neighborhood.
Ronan steeled himself and raised his hand to the front door. He knocked three times and waited, clutching the book. A second later, the door swung open, and his mother stood there, a dressing gown wrapped around her body and bags under her eyes.
“Hi, Mom.”
To his total surprise, his mother threw her arms around him and pulled him close. His body stiffened at first, unused to such open affection from her—it had been decades since she’d hugged him. But the second her familiar scent hit his nostrils, Ronan’s tough exterior was challenged. For how many years as a child had he begged for this moment?
There was so much baggage to sift through. But Audrey’s words echoed in his head: you can sympathize with her situation while still being hurt.
He wrapped his arms around his mother’s small frame. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to fully forgive her for what she’d done to him and Keira when they were children, but he only had one opportunity for closure. If he decided not to allow her into his life, then at some point that decision would be forever.
He thought about Audrey and all she’d done for her family, about how big her heart was and the goodness she brought to the world. Deep down, that was the kind of person Ronan wanted to be—someone who had a positive impact on others. Someone who made the world a better place.
Someone who didn’t abandon his family.
But he hadn’t been that person. Instead, he’d lived an isolated life, knee-deep in research so he didn’t have to risk himself by having a real relationship. Chasing his career around the globe because constant movement made it easier to remain alone. And safe.
When Merrin pulled back, Ronan caught sight of his grandmother watching from deeper within the house. Her expression was hard to read, as always.
“I guess you came to see your grandmother,” Merrin said. Her eyes were watery, as if she’d held back tears.
“I came to see you both,” Ronan said. He might not be able to forget what his mother had done, but he could forgive. Eventually. He could allow them both to have closure while it was still an option.
Audrey had shown him that those things were important—family, forgiveness. Love.
Love?
What else could he call what he and Audrey had shared?
“Don’t stand there in the doorway,” Orna said with a wave of her hand. “If you’re going to visit, then come into the damn house.”
Merrin shot him a look. For the first time in as long as Ronan could remember, they shared a moment of amusement. Stepping into the house was like being thrown back in time—the floorboards still squeaked in exactly the same places, and he avoided stepping on the board with the crack in it, like he had as a kid. Old superstition.
Ronan followed his grandmother and mother into the kitchen tucked down the back of the long, narrow building. There was already a stove kettle boiling and two mugs with teabag tags dangling over the edge.
“I brought you something,” Ronan said, holding the book out toward his grandmother.
Orna’s face lit up. There wasn’t much that brought her a moment of pure joy, and it always warmed Ronan’s heart. So far the only thing they’d found was her beloved Agatha Christie novels, ginger chocolates, and her great-grandson.
“Where did you get this treasure?” she asked, turning the book over as though it was the most precious thing in the world. “I have this, but not a first edition.”
; “I know.”
She looked up, her brow crinkled.
“I keep a list on my phone,” he explained. “Every time Keira or I buy you one, we make a note of it.”
For a moment, the old woman didn’t say anything. This might be the first time that Ronan had seen his grandmother officially at a loss for words. She blinked, looked at the book, then up at Ronan, then back down.
“You’re a good boy,” she said, her Irish accent more pronounced than usual. It got thicker with emotion, which didn’t happen too often. “We raised you well.”
“You raised him well,” Merrin corrected softly.
Ronan looked at his mother, surprised to hear her acknowledge it. Sometimes it took a drastic thing for people to come together.
“We’re still a family,” Orna said stubbornly. “No matter what happens. No matter how many mistakes we make. You don’t get to abandon people simply because you don’t like something they did.”
A heavy silence settled over the room, like snow falling. Where did they go from here? Ronan wasn’t sure—his experience in rebuilding relationships was absolutely zero. All he knew was that he wanted to keep trying.
And he’d never wanted that before. Because it was easier to let people walk away. To stay rooted to the ground and hold his tongue and not fight. It was easier to distract himself with work and commit himself to career success instead of people.
The day Audrey had walked out of his apartment, he knew he didn’t want to lose her. He’d tried to convince her to give them a chance…and the old Ronan wouldn’t put himself in the firing line again. Just like how he’d stopped trying with his mother, he would have stopped trying with her.
But it felt wrong. Not being with Audrey felt wrong.
I love her.
He felt it down to the core of him. Down to the deepest, most protected part of his soul. An emotion he was never sure he’d willingly feel ever again.
Kissing Lessons (Kissing Creek) Page 25
