Page 28 of Not Another Rockstar
“It wasn’t the only reason. Does that bother you?” Phoebe asked, unsure of how to process what had happened between them. If it wasn’t for revenge, then why?
“Happy to be of service.” He shook his head, placing his hands in his pockets, and they headed down to join the remaining guests in the living room.
“You both okay?” Nick asked.
“Just needed a minute.” Phoebe forced a smile, trying to hide her shame.
“Cillian’s mum wants you to say something before everyone leaves. Most of the people here would’ve attended your wedding, so she thinks they’d like to hear from you.” Nick shuffled uncomfortably as he relayed the request.
“Everyone would understand if it’s too much,” Axel reassured her, but it was the final step, her goodbye.
“A few words couldn’t hurt, and once everyone leaves, we can get to the will reading and call it a day.”
They watched her solemnly and stayed close.
Cillian’s mum smiled at her warmly as she walked over. The guests turned, and Phoebe fidgeted as the mourners stared, waiting for her to speak, but she was momentarily enraged by Helen sitting on the couch consoling Cillian’s mum. Finding out about her son’s child and other woman would bring her a new level of grief. Phoebe wished they’d put off the will reading, but if Helen was involved, ripping off the band-aid might be best for everyone.
“I want to thank all of you for coming and helping us celebrate Cillian’s life,” she began. “I’ve loved Cillian for most of my life. Before he was my boyfriend, my fiancé, he was my brother’s annoying best friend, and I was the younger sister with a helpless crush. The more time we spent together, and much to my brother’s irritation, we became inseparable. I can’t pinpoint the day we fell in love, or even the day we started dating, because we just were. That was how I expected to spend the rest of my life, with him. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Not because of the accident, or his untimely passing, but because he was having an affair. What’s a ten-year relationship compared to a six-month affair? Not only was he with another woman when he asked me to spend his life with him, but he’d also got her pregnant.
“I feel like a fraud, because I’m sure you were all expecting to hear from the person he wanted to make a life with. The truth is, that’s not me. The man I loved died long ago, and like my love for him, I can’t pinpoint the day or the hour it happened. The Cillian I loved and grew up with, cried and laughed with, wasn’t the man that nearly killed me. Today I buried a stranger, and the future I thought we were going to have together. Now, I think you should all hear from the woman he was building a future with, the woman who’s carrying his future.”
Phoebe raised her glass to Helen and downed the champagne as the room stared between them blankly.
“That was a beautiful speech.” Cillian’s mum, Maureen, embraced Phoebe, after most of the guests had said their goodbyes.
Of course, Phoebe hadn’t said what she wanted; she couldn’t hurt the guys or his mum like that. Instead, she had told the room what they had wanted, needed to hear, and when she’d raised her glass to his memory there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but if I could get everyone in the office we can do the reading of the will,” Mr Murray, the lawyer of Cillian’s estate, said politely.
They weren’t done yet. Anita had made the band write their wills when they first started to gain traction to prepare for the worst-case scenario, but Phoebe had no idea what was in Cillian’s will. She had always believed he had left everything to his mum. His mum, who was alone now, she realised. Her heart grew heavy.
Nick, August and Axel followed Maureen and Phoebe into the dining room off the kitchen. There was no office in the smalltwo-storey home. Despite Cillian’s protests, his mum had never wanted to move to a more luxurious home. As a single mum, she had lived frugally, and wanted to remain in the house where she had raised her son.
They all sat around the table, and Phoebe noticed Helen lingering by the door. At the head of the dining table, Mr Murray laid out some papers, and cleared his throat.
“Before we get started, Mr Hunt made a recent change to his last will and testament. I’ll read the entirety of the will, and should anyone have an issue, I ask that you wait patiently until the end so that we can get through this as quickly as possible.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“The most recent addition: Mr Hunt awarded five million euros and his penthouse apartment on West 23rd and Main in New York to Ms Helen Lycett.”
Phoebe clenched her teeth and kept her eyes low to conceal her emotions. His mum stared at her, while the others looked anywhere else.
“There must be some mistake,” Maureen started, but Phoebe rested her hand over hers.
“I’ll explain later,” she said quietly, not wanting to do this now. Her wrist ached, and she realised she was clenching her bad hand.
Helen remained quiet, but Phoebe noticed her hand placed defensively over her tummy. Despite Phoebe’s hurt, this woman was pregnant with Maureen’s future grandchild, so she hid her disgust for her sake.
Having heard what she needed to, Helen left the room.
“Mr Hunt awarded one million euros and the recently purchased villa in Amalfi, Italy, to Ms Phoebe Fletcher. The deed to the Dublin studio apartment you currently reside in will also be transferred to you,” Mr Murray said, looking as uncomfortable as they all felt.
The villa in Italy?He’d mentioned buying it after he’d proposed, but her apartment was a complete surprise. She’d been renting for years—when the hell did he buy it?
“There must be some mistake,” Phoebe argued, breaking the rules. “I’ve rented my apartment for years. I know my landlord.”
“Cillian didn’t want you to worry about the rent going up, or your landlord selling it out from under you, since you live across the road from your art studio. He bought the apartment over two years ago, and your name is already on the deed,” Mr Murray explained.
