Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
When I paused, I saw that Jonathan was staring at me with a hard, inscrutable expression. “What are you saying, Miss Rose? Is my mother in the hospital? Is she injured?” He picked up the phone like he was about to start making calls.
“I’m so sorry, Jonathan,” I croaked. “She didn’t make it. Neither of them did.”
The phone dropped to his desk with a muted thud. For a moment, it felt like time stood still. Jonathan was silent, just staring at me while a parade of emotion marched across his face. I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. I’d lost my dad, but our relationship was good. Solid. Years ago, it hadn’t been. In fact, there was a long period when we didn’t speak at all, and I tried to imagine how I’d feel if he’d passed away before we had the chance to reconnect. Jonathan’s eyes shone with feeling while his face turned blank. I reached inside my bag for some tissues and pulled one out to dab my eyes before offering the packet to Jonathan. He glanced at it then shook his head.
So, he wasn’t a crier. Some people weren’t.
“I understand this must be very shocking news, and I’m sorry to be the one to bear it.”
His forehead crinkled, his brow furrowing while his hand resting on the table clenched into a fist so tight I thought his veins might pop. Turning his head, he glanced out the window for a long moment, glaring at the clouds as though trying to eviscerate them with his gaze. His lips were pale, his jaw flickering. I could only imagine what was going through his mind. The turmoil. I felt for him despite his general rudeness and lack of consideration in attempting to avoid meeting with me today.
“I don’t understand. Why on earth would they still go out if there was a storm coming?” he said at last.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question. I think maybe the tour providers refused to give them a refund or something silly like that, so they’d taken the chance,” I replied softly.
His expression hardened as he glowered at me. The shock of it knocked some of the air from my lungs. “That doesn’t sound like something my mother would do. It must’ve been Conor. That bastard probably pushed for them to go out, and now—”
“Hey, that’s my father you’re talking about. And he adored your mother. He’d never risk her life like that. I’m sure they underestimated the severity of the storm.”
“He might’ve been your father, but he was a lowlife alcoholic,” Jonathan spat. “He never deserved Mam, and now, he’s taken her from me forever.”
“He was sober for over twenty years,” I said, trying to keep my anger at bay because a deeper part of me knew Jonathan was in shock and lashing out. “And there’s no sense throwing blame. They’re both gone, and there’s no changing that.” I sniffled, removing the notepad from my bag. “Believe me, I want to rage at the injustice of it all, but there are practicalities that need to be dealt with.”
At that, Jonathan’s attention went to my notepad before his eyes lifted to meet mine. “Practicalities?”
I blew out a breath. “I’ve been trying to communicate with the authorities over in Thailand about repatriating the bodies, but it’s been a struggle, especially with the language barrier. I’ve written down some instructions I was given, as well as numbers to call, but I haven’t made much headway despite spending half the day yesterday on the phone.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jonathan said, surprising me when he stood and walked towards me. He snatched my notebook from my hand and tore out the two pages where I’d written my notes before handing the pad back to me. “Hey, you can’t just—”
Before I could finish, he lifted his phone and pressed a few buttons, ignoring me completely. “Therese. Yes. Clear the rest of your schedule for the day. I have an urgent matter I need you to attend to. You’ll also need to locate a Thai translator and hire their services for the week.” I presumed Therese was his assistant. “All right. Thank you.”
When he put the phone back down, his unfathomable eyes—their glacial blue shade somehow matching his frosty personality—returned to me.
“You can go,” he said, his tone cold and dismissive, and my stomach bottomed out. I couldn’t imagine how someone as kind and generous as Leonora had a son as mean and abrupt as Jonathan.
“What about the funeral arrangements? They always spoke of being buried together.”
“I’ll take care of that, too,” he stated, and I frowned.
“For both of them? But you hated my father, and quite frankly, you haven’t been in your mother’s life for a long time. I think I’ll know better what they’d both prefer.”
Something flickered in his jaw, something a lot like fury mixed with shame. “Fine. You do the funeral, then.”