Page 88 of About that Fling
“Not really. Are you trying to make me forget?”
“Absolutely. Is it working?”
“Without a doubt,” she breathed, and pulled them both back onto the bed.
The call came at 5:00 a.m.
Jenna heard the faint buzz of Adam’s cell phone on the nightstand, and she tried to roll over. She found herself pinned beneath the weight of his arm and the heft of his bare leg.
“Adam? Wake up, Adam, it’s your phone.”
“Hmm?”
“Your phone. I think it’s ringing.”
She watched his eyes blink open, saw him roll and reach for the phone, knowing with a heavy feeling in her gut what the call was about before he even answered.
“Yes?”
He was silent a moment, and Jenna reached out to wrap his fingers with hers.
“So she went peacefully? Of course. No, I understand. That’s what we’d hoped for, I guess.”
Jenna sat up, pulling the sheet around her breasts as she wrapped her arms around Adam and just held him. He leaned against her, his bare shoulder chilly, but solid.
“And Gramps agreed to that? No, I think it’s best. I appreciate you doing that, Beth. Okay then. We’ll be there.”
Adam disconnected the call and sat quiet for a moment.
“She’s gone?” Jenna whispered, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah. Beth has Gramps at her place. She invited us to come for breakfast. We can go now, or we can stop by the assisted living facility to say our goodbyes.”
“What do you want to do?”
He sighed. “You know, I feel at peace with it. Like I already said my goodbyes yesterday. Or years ago, really. Is that wrong?”
“Not at all. There’s nothing that says you need to look at a dead person to have closure.” She stroked a hand down his back, wishing for some way to take away his pain. “Gertie brought me in to see my mother after she—after Mom passed.” Swallowing hard, she forced out the rest of the story. “It was awful. I never wanted to see her like that, and even though I have a million pictures of her in my head—Mom laughing, drawing, picking flowers with me in the front yard—I can’t erase the image of her lying in that bed, lifeless and helpless and just . . . gone.”
“Wow.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she kept stroking his back. “That’s what I meant about it being okay not to see Nana. I think you’re smart to want to preserve her in your mind the way you remember her best.”
“Thank you,” he murmured in her hair. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you sharing that.”
“You’re welcome.”
Drawing a breath, he pulled back to look in her eyes. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and go over to Beth’s.”
They showered together with the lights out. Jenna meant to keep a respectful distance, to stay stoic and supportive and reverent. But Adam reached for her in the dark, his hands slick and searching. She slid willingly into his arms, crying out as he drove into her beneath the hot spray of the shower.
They got to Beth’s house a little after sunrise. She met them with a shaky smile and a platter of the best-looking bacon Jenna had ever seen. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she put an arm around Jenna as they walked into the kitchen.
“Grief sucks,” Beth said, glancing down the hall. “I thought we were prepared, but . . .” She trailed off with a helpless shrug.
“You’re never really prepared for something like this.” Jenna wrapped Beth in her arms, ignoring the bacon for more pressing matters. “I know how much Adam appreciates you being here for your grandparents. You shouldered a pretty big load, so go easy on yourself, okay?”
“Thanks.” Beth sniffed. “Adam might act tough, but he’s an emotional guy. I know he’s glad to have you with him this weekend.”
