Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (97)

“Yeah. Maybe not,” Rose says as she places a kiss on my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Boss Hostler.”

With a final, weak smile, Rose turns away and leaves the coffee shop. I watch as she opens the door to a car waiting at the curb and disappears inside.

It’s a short walk home and I use most of it to text back and forth with Sloane. She and Rowan are spending a weekend in Martha’s Vineyard to bask in their newlywed bliss, something I guess I’m starting to feel too, even though it’s all been a little backward for Lachlan and me. But does that really matter? There’s a worn path in life that most people take when they wind up married. Fall in love first. Make your vows. But maybe I was never meant to be on it. It surprises me more than anyone when I realize that I’m happy where I am.

I’m thinking about that epiphany as I enter the apartment and send Lachlan a text to let him know I’ve arrived home. I set my mobile down to spend a little time playing with Bentley, who grabs the stuffed squeaky skull that Lachlan bought him last week. We’re playing tug-of-war when my phone vibrates on the coffee table with an incoming call.

The rush I just felt expecting to see Lachlan’s contact on my screen is washed away when it’s my mother’s details that appear instead.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey.”

I already know what she’s going to say next.

There’s a vortex in time right before the words come that feels even worse than the moment you hear them spoken aloud. It’s like waiting for the anticipation of a needle—you know the hurt will come, but imagining it is sometimes worse than the moment it slides into your skin.

“Auntie Ethel passed away.”

That pain still hits me like an ax to the chest. Tears fall freely down my face. We all knew this was coming. I thought about it every day. And yet it still feels like a hole has erupted inside me, a void that seems gravitational. Unfillable. Like it was made to only consume.

The tears don’t stop as my mom gives me the details. That Ethel passed in her sleep. It was peaceful. She says all the things that are supposed to be a minor comfort in the aftermath of loss. And then she talks about the practicalities that don’t stop for grief, not even for a moment. Mom sounds tentative when she asks if I want to meet them at Shoreview before the funeral home comes to take Ethel’s body away. She barely gets the question out before I tell her yes, to wait until I get there. And though my mom doesn’t ask outright about Lachlan, he’s the first person whose presence I crave. His quiet countenance. His steady shadow to my faltering light. There’s comfort knowing he’s seen more of me than I’ve been willing to share, and yet he doesn’t back away.

As soon as my mom hangs up, I select Lachlan’s number from my list of favorites. I try to compose myself, but the room seems to pulse with every beat of my heart, a watery film obscuring my vision.

Lachlan answers on the first ring. “Hey, duchess. I was just thinking about you.”

“Hi.”

That’s it. That’s all I need to say. Just one short word. A breath of sorrow.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay? Where are you?”

For a man who doesn’t say more than he has to, the barrage of questions almost makes me smile despite the pain that fills every crevice of my chest.

“Ethel,” I say around the stone lodged in my throat. “She passed.”

“Oh, Lark, I’m so sorry, love. I can come get you. What do you need?”

“It’ll be faster if we just meet at the nursing home.” I start gathering my belongings into my bag and head to the kitchen to refill Bentley’s water as he trails behind me. “My parents should be nearly there. I’ll grab an Uber.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be okay. It’s just …” I pause and press my lips together, trying to trap the grief that invades every bone, every drop of blood. It takes a few unsteady breaths and twisting a loose thread of my sweater around my finger until it aches before I can speak again. “It’s just that she was my anchor,” I say as I head to my bedroom. “She was steady in every storm. It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming, but I still feel … adrift. Expecting it doesn’t make it easier, you know? I was hoping we’d have a little more time.”

“I know. I was too, duchess. I’m sorry, I know how much she meant to you.” Lachlan’s heavy, worried sigh permeates the line. “Is there anything I can do?”

A breathy, mirthless laugh leaves my lips before my throat closes once more. “Probably. But right now I just need a hug.”

“I can do that,” Lachlan’s says. I clutch the phone to my ear and let the tears fall again. I feel solace in his silence. I know he’s there, giving me time, another steady anchor in a storm. I stand in the bedroom that’s become ours and stare at the floor, caught in my torrent of thoughts and realizations when his quiet voice finally pulls me free. “Lark …?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A breath stalls in my lungs. That quiet confession echoes in my mind until it brands itself there. I love you, an indelible ink written in memory.

Every big and bold moment with Lachlan seems to roll through my mind. The first time we met. The second. That kiss in the city clerk’s office when we said our vows. The way he whispered to me just before our lips met. Geallaim duit a bheith i mo fhear céile dílis duit, fad a mhairimid le chéile. I didn’t know what it meant—I still don’t. But I felt it. That this man would be there with me in my darkest times. And if I let him, he’ll be there in the light too.