Page 87 of Accidental Groom
She scrubs at her face awkwardly, then starts wringing her wrist, her nerves written all over her face. “I mean, I’m notdim, I can read between the lines when people are speaking about it. And I spoke to Mary about it, too. Clearly, a lot of people blame… you.”
I stare at her. She spoke to Mary about it — that… that’s better than her speaking to Dr. Frasier. “People blame me in a lot of different ways,” I say carefully. “Which ways are you referring to?”
She swallows, her throat working. “Mary said that people think you outright…killedher.”
The silence that falls is different from our usually charged or comfortable ones. It’s not tense, it’s not loud. It’sdead.
“Elena,” I say carefully, staring her down. “I hope you don’t believe that.”
“I don’t,” she breathes. “But Mary said some people think you were complicit in it or gave her the pills. She told me Geraldine had… uhm,fuck, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to upset you?—”
“It’s fine. Just talk.”
“She told me Geraldine had cancer,” she blurts as if it’s a crime to say aloud. “That she didn’t want people knowing. I’m sorry, I-I feel bad that I know at all.”
I take another deep breath, willing myself not to mind the words leaving her mouth. It doesn’t necessarily upset me that Mary spoke to her about this and told her so much, but the idea that she’s been worried about it and didn’t come tomeis enough to feel like a blade in the heart. “I don’t mind that you know. I don’t think Ger would have minded.”
She stares at me, her lips parted, her brows knit in what looks likeworrymore than confusion. “Okay,” she breathes. “Marysaid some people think you helped her. So she didn’t have to go through the end. Or that maybe you… forced them, I don’t know. That’s — that’s the whole problem, that I don’tknow. And I know I don’t have a right to that, I know that’s a trigger point for you, but I also know that I’m pregnant and I’m scared and I’m not willing to raise her in a house built on secrets if those secrets aredangerousor if they could hurt her. Or me. Or…fuck, I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes, bringing my hands to my face, pushing the hair back. I don’t realize they’re trembling until I canseethem, and god, I hate that she can see it.
“I was trying to ignore it,” she says, her voice breaking just a little. “I was. But I can’t keep ignoring it unless you tell me what happened. Whatreallyhappened. Not the press version, not the family version.Yours.”
I try to swallow, but my throat has gone painfully dry. “Mary’s right. She was dying,” I say, my voice hoarse. I’ve never told anyone the full story, not even George, and I can’t remember a time I ever spoke it all out loud. I’m not even sure if Ihave. I’ve sat with it in my head for years, letting it eat me alive, but I’ve never given it words.
The words come slowly. Each one feels like it’s being pulled from somewhere deeper than just my lungs.
“She kept it from me for months. Maybe… maybe longer, I don’t know, I have no idea how she managed it. Appointments I never knew about, test results I never saw. She was always private, always stubborn, but never with me, at least not until then,” I explain, glancing at the photo of her before letting my gaze drift back toward Elena. I can’t fully look at her. “I thought the headaches were just migraines, stress, bad genetics. She said they were nothing. Then the vomiting started. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and she’d be in the bathroom, or I’d go outto see her in the cottage and find her clutching the toilet like it could save her.”
A flicker of recognition hits her. I’d walked in on her in the same position. I’d hesitated.
“A month before she died,” I continue, “she sat me down and told me she had ovarian cancer. Stage four. It had spread…everywhere. There weren’t any good options.”
I pause, taking a deep, shuddering breath, and rub at my eyes. “She said it so fucking calmly. Like it was something I should’ve known already.”
I remember the feeling of that moment like it happened ten minutes ago. The way the room tilted, the sick disbelief. I had looked at her and felt the floor crumble beneath my goddamn feet, had felt the destruction, had felt the loss of her while she was still in front of me. I’d felt the gaping hole she’d leave behind.
“She told me she wasn’t going to fight it,” I croak. “‘I don’t want to die vomiting into a hospice sink.’ That’s what she said. She didn’t want to lose her hair or sit there in pain in the hopes that some tiny percentage chance would save her. She said she wanted control.”
My eyes burn aggressively, and I push my palms hard against them.
“I told her we could figure something out, that there was time, that we could try. And she just looked at me like… like I didn’t understand what was happening.”
The next part is harder. It lives in a place in my mind I avoid like the plague.
“About a month later, after countless talks of how she didn’t want people knowing what she was going through, about how she didn’t wantGeorgeto know, she started getting worse. So much worse,” I rasp. I pull my hands from my eyes, watching with blurred vision as they shake. “She came into the office whileI was up late working. I had a meeting at four in the morning, so I was just going to stay up for it and work through the night. She… she said she was tired, she kissed me. She said goodnight.”
My voice breaks on the words, my heart pounding. Elena’s hand closes around mine, but I can’t bring myself to look at her.
“But it wasn’t ‘goodnight’. She said goodbye,” I choke. “It took me a few minutes to realize, after she’d left the room and gone to the bedroom. I knew something was wrong. Iknew. I put the pieces together. And I didn’t… I didn’t move. I just sat there, staring at my computer like it could stop the world from ending.”
I take a deep, gasping, wet breath.
“I sat through the meeting and didn’t say a word. That didn’t… didn’t help the rumors later on when that came out. And I found her after, when I finally managed to get myself to get thefuckup out of my chair.”
“Harry—”
“She was in bed, on her side, slightly stiff, vomit on the sheets, this pinkish foam on her mouth?—”
