Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 144696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
“I’m with her on this,” Emma said. She sounded pretty pissed, as well. “I’m an adult now. I think it’s incredibly strange that you continue to do this stuff behind my back with mother. The two of you need to stop treating me like a child.”
“Ganged up on,” Neil muttered to his plate. Then, brightening up a bit, he said, “Fine. I would like a funeral with a low mass at St. Paul’s Knightsbridge, followed by a luncheon here at the house.”
“Low mass?” I shook my head. “Neil, you aren’t even religious.”
“I’m not, but my mother is C of E. More as a hobby, but it would please her and put on a good show in front of her friends. I can give her that much.” He cleared his throat and continued. “I don’t want to be put on ice after I die. That seems ghoulish. Just have me cremated before the funeral. I have an urn picked out, Alan has it in his office.”
Oh god. He’d already picked out his urn. He’d already bought his urn.
He went on. “Sophie, you’re to be seated with Emma and my family. You’ll be listed in my obituary and in the minister’s remarks as my surviving partner. I hope that’s alright?”
“Yes.” I could barely squeak out the word.
“As for my ashes. If the two of you wish to divide them between you to keep them, you have my blessing. If you ever wish to be rid of me, my only request is that I be kept at Langhurst Court. Emma, Langhurst Court is a part of your inheritance. If you sell it, I would first like to be buried on the island in the southern lake, near the folly.”
My throat stuck closed. I didn’t want to think about Neil being dead, his body reduced to ashes, gone from my life forever. I didn’t want to think about carrying around an urn with what was left of my boyfriend in it. I wished I’d never brought it up.
“Excuse me for a quick minute.” I pushed back from the table and headed into the house, trying hard to stay composed for the short walk across the terrace.
I heard Neil curse and push his chair back, but I didn’t stop for him. And as soon as I was inside, I picked up my pace, darting around a corner and into one of the service hallways.
The break from chemotherapy had lulled me into a false sense of security. I’d been happy to ignore the thought of Neil dying, and it had been easy to do when he seemed to be getting well with every passing day. But we were about to be plunged into the scariest part of his treatment, and here I was, acting like a jealous fool because he hadn’t told me all about his hypothetical funeral.
I braced myself with a palm against the wall as I cried. I felt like my ribcage was going to splinter inward and pierce my heart, the pressure there was so great. At the moment, I almost would have welcomed it; without a heart, metaphorical or literal, I couldn’t be hurt by Neil’s death.
His footsteps preceded his soft, “Sophie? Sophie, darling. Look at me.”
I turned slowly, wobbling in my heels. My clothes felt stupid now. What was I doing playing dress up when my boyfriend was dealing with all this shit? It had nothing to do with making him feel better, and everything to do with fooling myself into believing we were going to be fine.
“This is why I didn’t want to talk to you about any of this.” He came to me and put his arms around me. I could feel his apheresis catheter through his shirt, and that made me cry harder.
He held me, a hand on the back of my head, his arms wrapped tight around me, as I sobbed out all my frustration. I absolutely hated crying in front of people, and in front of Neil most of all. Especially now, when I was crying about something to do with him, that he couldn’t control.
“I’m not dead yet,” He laughed softly against my hair. “And I don’t plan to be. Not now, anyway.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded and buried my face into his chest.
“I know I’m making mistakes. I’ll make more. Many, many more, I’m sure.”
How could he feel so solid and real, when one day he would die? How did any of this feel real?
“I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
I lifted my head and blinked up at him. “Hurt me? Neil, you didn’t hurt me.”
“I thought, because Valerie knew—”
“Oh, piss on Valerie,” I hissed.
And of course, that was exactly when Emma came around the corner, and I burst into fresh tears.
“Give us a moment, Emma?” Neil asked over the top of my head, his arms tightening around me once more.