Chapter 4

Cabs were hard to come by in Neal’s gated community.

I was walking slowly. Even the nearest bus stop was a half-hour walk away.

Luckily, the cemetery representative came to pick me up. By the time Neal drove around looking for me, I was long gone.

I looked through the cemetery brochure as the representative talked me through the options. There were only a few good plots to choose from, so the decision was easy.

My mother had kept my father’s ashes at home because she could not bear to part with them.

Finally, I could lay them to rest together.

I was afraid my mother was still angry with me. My father had always been more forgiving. No matter how badly I messed up, he would smile and persuade her to go easy on me.

I pressed my cheek against his cold porcelain urn and asked him for a favor.

“You always spoiled me, Dad. Come see me in my dreams whenever you can. Talk to Mom for me. Ask her not to be angry with me anymore. I just want to see her, even if it’s only in a dream. I’m not ready to let her go.”

That little grave held the two people who used to bring me meals when I lay curled up in bed.

My parents used to chatter away on the phone while I listened. At that moment, I was the one doing all the talking, standing at their grave as they listened from beneath the cold stone.

I filled the grave with my own hands.

When the urn finally disappeared beneath the earth, I could no longer hold myself together. All the grief I had been holding back came flooding out.

I knelt before their grave. I could no longer rest my forehead against them and feel their warmth.

Only the cold headstone greeted me.

The cold made me tremble.

My tears came like a summer storm finally breaking, as though the sky had split open. I sobbed uncontrollably, the sound raw and ragged in the stillness of the cemetery.

By the time I stumbled out of the cemetery, it was already dark.

I did not want to go home.

I no longer had one.

My flight was early, so I went straight to the airport.

Outside my family’s old apartment building, Neal leaned against his car. The orange tip of his cigarette brightened with each drag, then dimmed. He had lost count of how many he had smoked.

After I left his house, it was as though I had disappeared off the face of the earth.

His calls and texts went unanswered.

He finally realized how few friends I had. Even the handful of people who liked my posts and talked to me were editors and publicists I had met while cleaning up his scandals.

The irony was bitter.

Anxiety and panic gnawed at him. Nicotine was the only thing that took the edge off.

Neal was beginning to think he had made a mistake.

He should not have let Mimi pick the ring up off the floor.

He should never have tossed it at my feet in the first place.

That was no way to propose.

There should have been flowers and fireworks. He should have gotten down on one knee and promised me forever. I had always been reserved.

He pictured me blushing as I held out my left hand for the ring, too shy to let him kiss me anywhere but the forehead.

Neal chuckled at the imagination.

He felt a quiet thrill of anticipation.

Then, he thought of my mother in the hospital.

I was stubborn, but my mother always came first. I would eventually visit her. With her transplant coming up, there was no way I would leave her.

Neal crushed his cigarette underfoot. Then, he got into his car and drove toward the hospital in the pale dawn light.

Meanwhile, an announcement came over the airport speakers.

“Attention, please. Flight 886 to Langdon is now boarding. Please proceed to Gate 2 with your boarding passes ready.”

The plane climbed into the clear blue sky.

I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes. In thirteen hours, I would begin a new life.

In the hospital, Neal had just reached my mother’s ward. His smile vanished when he pushed open the door.

The room was empty. There was not a soul in sight.

Panic began to overwhelm him.

He approached the bed. It had been remade with fresh linens. The bathroom was empty, too.

The glass vase I filled with fresh flowers every day stood empty. Even the patient information card at the foot of the bed was gone.

Neal felt dizzy with fear.

No longer caring about how it would make him look, he raced down the hospital corridor and grabbed a passing nurse by the arm. “Where’s the patient from Suite 3? Was she transferred? Where did they take her?”

The nurse gave him a puzzled look. “Mr. Beckett, didn’t Ms. Tyler tell you? Her mother passed away two days ago.”