Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Thanks. I’m, um, just going to go upstairs and change before we eat.”
I took my coat from him and left the room. My pulse was beating faster than usual, not to mention my belly was all flip-floppy from his confession and the sight of him in my kitchen, cooking dinner for Zara and me like we were a family again. It hurt because I’d always yearned for that kind of domestic simplicity, but it had never been possible. Jace was always absorbed with writing his music, recording albums, and performing. And then after Cai had died, with numbing the loss.
I climbed the stairs, then shut myself in my room. I sat down on the bed, trying to get a handle on my emotions. Everything happening felt like more than I was ready to handle, and I was completely overwhelmed.
Then Zara shouted up the stairs that dinner was ready, so I quickly changed out of my office clothes and into a cosy jumper and leggings. I combed my hair up into an easy bun, then headed back downstairs.
The food smelled amazing, and my mouth was watering before I’d even taken a bite.
“This looks great,” I said, recognising that Zara had set the table because she always placed the cutlery in the wrong order. When I was a child, the rules of etiquette had been drilled into me during lessons my parents had forced me to attend. Forks went on the left while knives and spoons were to be placed to the right. It made me happy to see them in the opposite order because I’d always been adamant that my children wouldn’t be forced to adhere to the strict rules I’d had to. My childhood home had been a suffocating bubble of forced perfection that I’d never wish on Zara, not in a million years.
“It’s a been a while since I tried out this recipe, so let me know if it’s okay,” Jace said. He seemed unusually self-conscious, and I wondered if he regretted what he’d revealed to me at lunch. I took my seat and lifted my fork, taking my first mouthful, and it was a perfect explosion of taste, the seasoning well balanced but not overpowering.
“It’s great. You haven’t lost your touch,” I told him, and he seemed relieved.
“I got an invitation today,” Jace said, and I glanced at him curiously.
“An invitation for what?”
Several emotions passed over him, most notably sadness. “Cai’s parents are holding a small memorial at their house for the anniversary of his death. It’s been seven years.”
“Oh. I didn’t get one,” I said, taken aback. Had it really been seven years? I paused and ate a few bites of food before speaking again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I want to go. My parents are going, too. It will be good to take the day to remember him.”
Suddenly, the delicious jambalaya faded to ashes in my mouth. With how hard Jace had taken Cai’s death, especially since he was in the car with him at the time, I worried this memorial might set him back. The fault had been with the other driver, who was several times over the legal limit, and Jace hadn’t even been driving, but I knew he somehow blamed himself. Seeing his friend and bandmate die right next to him, it had changed him irrevocably. He had some form of survivor’s guilt. Not entirely logical, but sometimes our brains dealt with shock and tragedy in strange ways.
Jace had only known Cai for two years. They’d put out a notice for a drummer, and after a bunch of auditions, Cai had turned up. He’d gelled with the group straight away, but his parents hadn’t approved of him joining the band because he was giving up a medical degree to be a drummer, so he’d become estranged from them over the years. I think that was another reason why Jace had taken his death so badly. He’d known how much the band had become family to him.
I wondered if that was why his parents had decided to hold the memorial. Maybe they carried guilt over how they’d dealt with Cai’s choice to play music instead of becoming a doctor.
“I’d like to come, if that’s okay,” I said, and some of his tension seemed to melt away.
“You would?”
“Of course. I might not have been as close with Cai as you and the others, but he was my friend, too.”
“Okay, I’d like that.”
Zara, seeming to realise that a sensitive topic was being discussed, said, “Daddy, can I have a hug?”
He glanced at her, and I saw the wave of gratitude in his gaze when he nodded profusely, “Yes, honey, come here.”
My throat thickened at the sight of our little girl with her small arms around Jace’s broad shoulders. She’d asked for a hug, but really, she knew her dad was the one who needed it.