Chapter forty
Antonia
Suddenly, it all makes sense.
Him being at the graveyard today. On a Monday. The extra flowers, the card, the butterfly. All the effort made on the gravestone. Everything drops into place.
“I think I should go,” I say, standing up. My chair scrapes back across the tiles. Ollie covers his ears. Ben stands with me, his eyes pleading with me not to leave.
“A… Antonia,” Amy says. “It’s not… There’s no need for you…”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “I shouldn’t be here. This is your day. I’m so sorry to have intruded.”
I leave the table and gather my things—my bag, my coat—pulling it on before anyone can stop me. I’m at the front door when Ben catches up with me. My fingers grasp the handle when he reaches for my elbow. I pull it out of reach. If he touches me, it might stop me leaving, and I don’t belong here.
I open the door and we both step outside.
“Antonia, please… wait.”
Out on the porch, I spin back to face him as he closes the door. My pulse hammers in my ears, heat climbs fast. Tonight there was too many eyes, too much of his past where I don’t fit.
“You should have told me,” I say, the words low and tight. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just…” He shakes his head, looking lost, eyebrows furrowed deep. “I’m sorry. I should have told you what day it was today. But at the graveyard, when we talked. And I just…” He exhales slowly. “I knew you needed me.”
And that’s the problem. He decided for me.
“It wasn’t your choice to make,” I hiss. “Savannah’s right. Today wasn’t the day.”
His shoulders sag while his eyes fix on the ground. The front door opens behind him. Amy steps out onto the porch.
“Antonia, please don’t think you were wrong to be here. I’m so sorry how this has turned out.” She pulls me into a hug. I stiffen, unsure if I deserve the kindness. “I really did love meeting you. And Savannah… she’ll come around. Today is just one of those days. It’s hard for everyone.”
Amy grips my fingers. She’s about my height, with blonde hair and blue eyes. So much like the woman in the photograph hanging on the wall inside. The woman whose children still call her Mum.
Bex.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “But I really shouldn’t be here. I’m going to go.”
I turn and start down the path.
“Antonia.” Ben steps forward. “Let me come with you. I want to make sure you get home safe.”
This is the most hurt I’ve felt in a long time. I’m already regretting letting the walls fall, the ones I’d built so carefully around myself. For allowing him inside. I keep walking.
“Antonia, please…” His voice breaks, then I hear footsteps running behind me. He catches up as I reach my car. “Please,” he repeats, breathing heavy. “I want to…”
“What you want isn’t my problem.” My voice is tight, each word a hurdle.
I don’t look at him; I can’t. He stands behind me, close enough that his aftershave hits. But he doesn’t touch me again.
“Now,” I say softer. “I need some space. Please… give me this.”
He steps back.
My car door doesn’t move, and I realize I haven’t unlocked it. Once it opens, I dive inside and clip my seatbelt into place. The engine starts with a low rumble, and as I pull out, I glance back at the house.
Ben’s standing in the doorway, watching, Amy by his side. She reaches over and squeezes his arm. The lights glow warmly in the windows behind them. The rest of their family is still inside.