Chapter 2

The shrill telephone ring from somewhere on his office floor aroused him from his musings. There was a pile of documents that needed his attention on his desk, a blueprint he had to overlook in his system, but for the first time in three years since Hannah's death, he had no urge to work.

Work had been his escape after her death, the minute he figured out Monet knew exactly what she was doing with the kids, he'd plunged himself into his company. Dealing with his grief by taking his company to one of the most sought-after architectural firms to look out for in such a competitive market.

Three days since she announced her engagement to Kyle, his house had become an echo of warmth. Hell! It felt just as raw as Hannah's passing. The kids were moving in silence; even Carter—who undoubtedly didn't grasp the entire situation had taken to sulking. Everything irritates him.

Sweet Meredith no longer hangs around the kitchen with Monet anymore. She doesn't even meet her eyes, and Richard watches it kill Monet at every turn.

Good.

His kids weren't the only ones hurting.

She had woven herself so deeply into their lives that it was equally hard to let go for her as it was for the kids.

And there isn't a thing you can do about it— His conscience tugged at him.

He soared to his feet, almost knocking his chair over from the force of his movement, banging it against the oak cabinet behind his seat with a resounding bang.

His secretary poked her head into his office, “Jesus Christ, Richard what's wrong?”

Richard looked at Mrs Haines but he wasn't really seeing her salt-n-pepper rounded figure at the moment. He needed to get out of the office. “Cancel the rest of my schedule for today and the rest of the week.”

Mrs Haines looked at him open-mouthed but managed a nod, watching him toss files into his briefcase, “I'll email you any work but send the rest of the files that don't need my signature to the other partners.”

He was out of the office in a whirl, almost leaving Mrs. Haines a whiplash as she watched his long strides to the elevator; she turned to look at his desk; it looked like a tornado had passed through it.

“Well, well, well,” She muttered with a little bittersweet smile on her lips. “Three whole years you had with her, and you couldn't see that she was just what you and the kids needed.”

_______

“........the kids are a mess—”

“And you are painfully terrified,” His grandma added softly cutting him short.

Richard sighed shoveling his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. He'd driven to his house right after he left his office, but he stopped short when he saw Monet's KIA in the driveway. The kids were still at school, and he didn't want to be alone with her, so he'd driven to the other part of town, straight to his grandmother's.

“She could have given me a heads up,” He grumbled, hating how he sounded even as he said it.

Florence smiled softly at him, all gentle eyes and knowing sighs as she poured tea into the mismatched mug he always used when he came over. “You wanted a heads-up for what exactly, Richie? So you could ignore it better? Push it off another week and pretend you aren’t unraveling like that old sweater I warned you about throwing out?”

Richard gave her a sharp look but it dulled halfway through. Her words were never meant to sting. They were truth—wrapped in lace and served with honey.

“She could’ve told me,” he muttered, sitting heavily on the worn floral couch across from her. “She didn’t have to blindside the kids like that. Blindside me.”

“You’re not mad she didn’t tell you,” Florence said gently, stirring sugar into her own tea. “You’re mad because you didn’t know it would hurt this much. You thought you could eventually let her go one day and keep your peace. But sweet boy... you lost your peace a long time ago.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, elbow braced on his knee. “She’s not... I mean, this isn’t about me and her. It’s about the kids.”

Florence just hummed, sipping slowly. “Of course it is.”

“She’s in their bones now. You can’t just rip her out and expect no one to bleed.”

He swallowed hard.

“I told you, the minute you brought that girl into your home,” she continued, “I knew she wouldn’t just be a nanny. She filled in the cracks, Richard. Quietly. Gently. And she never overstepped. But honey, even God knows that kind of love doesn’t stay invisible forever.”

“I’m not—” he started.

“You’re not in love with her,” she finished for him. “I know. You’re still in love with Hannah. And you still think loving anyone else would betray her memory.”

His jaw tightened. Florence reached out and patted his knee.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay to grieve and still be grateful for what’s here.”

He didn’t answer.

She didn’t push.

His silence was answer enough.

Florence smiled.

“Stop punishing yourself, Richie. Love doesn’t come just once. Sometimes, it knocks twice. And this time, it knocked for the kids.

She stood leaning over to give him a kiss on his dark head just as she'd done when he was a kid, “I trust you to make the right decisions, Richie. You always do.”

“I have a pilates class,” She said stretching in her mauve Lycra joggers. At seventy five she was as spry and feathery as she'd been when he was a kid. “Mae's making her famous lasagna for you to take to the kids, maybe that would cheer them up.”

And then she was gone in a whirlwind of Lavender and mint perfume, leaving him in silence, in her floral tearoom straight from the eighties. He'd renovated the whole house but his grandmother had insisted this room stayed exactly the same.

He hadn't understood why his grandmother had insisted on not renovating this room, but he felt like he did now.

Some things were meant to stay the same forever.