The lump in my throat gets bigger. “I’m sure she is.”

“C’mon.” He pulls on my hand. “I want to show you something.”

I stand and look at Gwen. “Go ahead. We’ll wait for you,” she says.

Trailing behind Oliver, I follow him toward the green tent. I search for Latson and find him talking to Dean and a few other people. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his black suit, the jacket fastened by one button at the waist. I’ve never seen him dressed so formally, and it takes my breath away. To say he cleans up nicely is an understatement. The only thing I wish I could change is the sad, distant look on his face. I curse myself for screwing this up; I should have been here for him.

Oliver and I keep walking and, just when I think he’s leading me to his grandmother, he takes me behind the green tent. As we pass by, I get an up-close view of the deep mahogany casket covered with a huge spray of every pastel rose imaginable. The finality of it hits me, and I swallow. Oliver stops in front of a headstone and points. “This is my mom,” he says in a quiet voice. “This is where I come to visit her, although Uncle Gunnar doesn’t bring me a lot. He might more now, since Grandma is here, too.”

My breath catches. This is the last thing I expected him to show me. The August sun reflects off a polished gray stone etched with:

Audrey Jean Latson

Beloved Daughter, Sister, Mother

November 12, 1984 ~ April 9, 2012

“All you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be.” ~ Pink Floyd

I crouch down and sit on the balls of my feet to study the intricate flowers carved around the stone. They look like Lily of the Valley mixed with Forget-Me-Nots. “This is a very special place,” I say to Oliver. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He smiles, then kisses his finger and touches the top of the stone. “This is what we do when we come here, so she knows we love her,” he explains. “Uncle Gunnar says angels can see our kisses.”

Without warning, tears prick my eyes. What an amazing thing for him to say.

“Oliver.”

Latson’s voice is stern behind me, and a wave of anxiety slides down my spine. I immediately stand, but he barely glances at me.

“Uncle Gunnar, look.” Oliver’s face lights up. “Jen’s here.”

“We have to go.” Latson extends his hand toward his nephew. “We don’t want to be late.” His eyes dart to me when he says the word “late”. They’re cold. Colder than I’ve ever seen them.

“Okay,” Oliver says and reluctantly shuffles towards his uncle. “I’ll see you at the restaurant, Jen.”

“’Kay,” I say, my voice stuck.

As they walk away, I’m rooted in place. Latson didn’t speak to me, much less look at me.

My heart cracks, and the fissure runs to my soul.

~~~~

Hours later, I’m curled up on Pete’s couch. I don’t think my body can get any smaller. Maybe I’m trying to disappear, or maybe I’m trying to hold my insides together. Either way, the feeling sucks. I’d give anything to go back in time and fix today.

“You should go talk to him.” Jules sits by my feet. She places a mug on the table in front of me, and I give her a confused look. “Coffee,” she says. “You didn’t eat anything at the dinner.”

She’s right. All I did was push food around my plate.

“I wasn’t hungry,” I say. I’m still not. I hurt Latson, and I feel hideous.

“C’mon.” She swats me on my ass.

“Ow!”  I scowl at her. “What was that for?”

“Nothing is going to solve itself with you sitting here. He’s right upstairs. Go. Talk. To. Him.”

“I want to,” I say. So badly.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

I shrug.

Jules lets out a sigh. “They say never go to bed angry. You should at least go upstairs and apologize.”

She’s right. I wanted to apologize the minute I saw Latson at the cemetery. I wanted to apologize at the dinner. However, he was with family, and he wouldn’t acknowledge me. “I think I need to give him some space. He just lost his mother.” I sit up and reach for the coffee. “I’m not sure it’s the right time.”

Jules’ voice gets quiet. “When you love someone it’s always the right time.”

I’m silent. I’m not sure if he loves me. He’s never said it; but then again, neither have I.

“Think of it this way,” she says. “If he had done something to hurt you, wouldn’t you want an apology?  Or at least words?”

I nod.

“So?” She prods. “Oliver should be in bed by now. Go.”

I give her an uncertain look. “I think I should wait until morning.”

She huffs, then grabs me by the arm and pulls me to my feet.

“Hey!”  The coffee splashes. “You don’t have to –”

She leads me out of the living room, then opens the door. She takes the mug from my hands and nudges my leg with her foot. “Go say you’re sorry. I won’t wait up.”

Rolling my eyes, I step outside the door. Without another word she shuts it, and I’m alone.

Slowly, I make my way to Latson’s apartment. It’s not like I don’t want to see him. It’s the exact opposite. Every part of me aches to hold him. I want to do what I promised, to be there for him and take away his pain. The problem is he’s angry, and I don’t know if he wants to see me.

When I reach his door, I tentatively knock and wait for a response. When none comes, I knock again, only harder. I fidget as I wait. I guess he could be sleeping. It’s been a long, difficult day. I would give anything to be asleep beside him.

Sighing at the thought, I turn to leave and stop when the door opens. Latson stands there wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt. No fun saying graces his chest, just the solid color blue.

“Hi,” I say when he doesn’t speak. “Can we talk?”

His face is impassive as he steps outside. He crosses his arms, glances at the floor, and then looks at me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Today,” I say. “I’m sorry about today.”

“Me, too,” he says, emotionless. “I buried my mother and my girlfriend wasn’t there.”

That hurts. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I tried to be there. I really did.”

“Did you?” He tilts his head. “Because it sounded to me like sleep was more important.”

What?  I’ll kill Pete if he made it sound that way. “You have to know I didn’t do it on purpose. I had a late night. I know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s the truth.”

Latson nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “Is there anything else you want to tell me about last night?”

I stare at him in confusion. His tone implies I did something wrong. “No. Heidi and Caleb were being obnoxiously loud in the room next to mine and I couldn’t sleep.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps.

My heart starts to pound. “Excuse me?  I’m not lying.”

“Heidi was kicked off the tour.”

“And Caleb let her back on.” I study his face. “You can ask Roxanne. Heidi came back yesterday.”

I try to step closer to him and he steps back. It hits me like a punch to the gut. “What’s wrong?”

He lets out a sarcastic laugh as he shakes his head. “I just…I can’t keep up with you, Jen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I want to believe you. It means I want to have faith in what you say. But when I have proof otherwise, it makes me wonder what else you’ve lied to me about.”

Hold on. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Yeah?” I don’t like the look in his eyes. “You promised you’d be there today and you weren’t.”

My face falls. “I know and I feel awful. I fell asleep; it was an accident.”

“You promised you’d stay away from Caleb and you haven’t.”

I frown. Are we back to that night at the bar?  “I told you he found me and took my phone. I didn’t find him.”

“And last night?  How do you explain that?”

I’m at a loss for words. I already told him Caleb and Heidi were next door. Does he think I booked the room?  “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Have you been online today?”