sweetest man I’ve ever known, and I’m aware that, as my pregnancy progresses, he’ll continue to dote on me.
However, it’s infuriating, especially at times like these. Whatever lead he’s chasing down, I want to be a part of it. I’d rather be with him, discovering what my father was into with the Morningstars. Instead, I’m expected to stay here and indulge?
Perfect.
And quite unlikely.
With a heavy sigh, I set the note aside and push the covers off in order to get ready for the day, hoping I won’t be cooped up for too long. I take my time in the bath, and even longer to dry and style my hair. Once I’m all primped and prepped for a day of apparently nothing, I lounge on the bed and commence channel surfing, but after a short while of finding nothing that catches my interest, I find myself getting antsy.
For what feels like hours, I pace the room, anxious and impatient for his return. Rafe doesn’t answer his phone when I break down and call him, and he doesn’t respond to any of my text messages. I wonder what he could be doing. After the fifth unanswered call, I decide I can no longer sit in this hotel room alone.
There’s something I want to do—something I have to do.
This may be my only chance.
I know exactly where I want to go.
After pulling on my boots and my jacket, I scribble out my own note and then leave the hotel room. Trepidation courses through my blood, my heart hammers as I step outside into the hall, but I push my fears away, knowing I have to do this—and I have to do it alone.
Still, I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m closing the taxi door and we pull away from the hotel, off to my destination.
My nerves flutter the closer we get, yet I’m also more confident that I’ve made the right the decision to come here. It’s something I need for my own sanity, my own peace of mind, even if only for a few moments. I’m going to the one place where I know solace. The one place where my grief both cocoons me and eases the pain of my loss.
For the first time since I laid them to rest, I’m visiting my parents. With everything that’s happened, I need to be close to them. To feel their close presence, even if it’s just an illusion.
After I exit the cab, I’m stuck in place as I take in my surroundings. I immediately wonder… What if I’d died? What if Adrian had succeeded? Would Rafe have buried me here, alongside them, the entire Latham family in their final resting places? All four of us?
I shake the morbid thought from my head and make a mental note to bring Rafe here once everything settles. Even though he knew my father, something I still haven’t entirely wrapped my mind around, I want him to know what they meant to me. How he’s the only thing that saved me from being there beside them right now. How, before him, I’d almost entertained the thought of joining them before fate planned.
Not wanting to stall any longer, I force myself forward, passing through the high arch that serves as an entrance. I’m not sure if it’s the venue or the slight chill in the air, but I’m almost instantly shivering. I pull my jacket tighter around me and continue on. The leaves are crinkly and dry, crunching underneath my boots as I walk towards my parents’ graves. It’s the only sound filling the air around me, and the break in the silence is strangely soothing. Each crinkle, each crunch leads me closer to them. Closer to peace.
God, how had I been away from here for so long? On the other hand, why would I want to come?
I stroll through the cemetery, surveying each of the various headstones as I pass them. My mind wanders, reading each name and date. What were their stories? Who are the loved ones who bring fresh flowers, grieving and paying respects?
Is it therapeutic to come to this place where our loved ones are buried in boxes, nothing but decaying matter and dusty bones? Or are we torturing ourselves with these kinds of rituals? And how long are we, those filled with despair, meant to continue such a morose tradition? My thoughts turn macabre.
Do I need the glaring tombstone with the names of my parents as finite proof that they’re gone? Will it