My eyes lift, meeting with a set of beautiful blue eyes.
The only eyes I ever want to look into.
Taylor smiles softly at me. Her eyes mirror my sadness. Her precious head is covered with a black headscarf to hide the hair loss that bothers her so much. It doesn’t bother me because that gone hair means that she’s still here. Solid and breathing.
She fought that brain tumor like a motherfucker. Sorry, God. But she did, and she won.
We got the all-clear two weeks ago. We’re not out of the woods completely. She has another checkup in another six months, but for now, the tumor is gone, and my girl is on the mend.
Months of radiation therapy, watching it wreck her body while healing her brain…was hard. But she did it, and she’s here.
I just hate that we’re here now. That we’ve lost someone else whom we love.
Archie suddenly passed away a week to the day after we had gotten the all-clear on Taylor. He’d had a stroke. It had come out of nowhere and taken him with it.
“For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen,” Reverend Gray ends the prayer.
I gently squeeze Taylor’s hand, and then I turn to my grandpa, who is standing beside me. He’s been affected by Archie’s passing the most.
Archie might have been his employee for the better part of twenty-five years, but he was my grandpa’s friend more.
I press my hand to his shoulder. “You doing okay, Grandpa?” I ask quietly.
He meets my eyes and nods.
The service over, we exit the church. Grandpa is the first to leave. We were the only family Archie had. He was married many years ago, but he lost his wife young, like Grandpa did with my grandma. Archie didn’t have any children. So, we were his family.
As I hold Taylor’s hand, we follow behind my grandpa, walking down the aisle.
“I’m just going to thank Reverend Gray for the service,” Grandpa tells me, stopping by the door.
“We’ll wait in the car for you.”
Taylor and I walk out into the warm sunshine.
“Thanks for coming with me today,” I say to her as we leave the churchyard, heading for the car.
She nudges my arm with her shoulder. “Don’t thank me. I loved Archie, too, you know.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I know, babe.”
After Taylor’s surgery and recovery, once she was out of the hospital, we decided it would be best if we moved into Hunter Hall. I still had to work. Owning a company sadly doesn’t mean I get to have forever off. I didn’t want Taylor at the apartment, alone, during the day, and she needed care after the radiation therapy. We discussed hiring a nurse, but Grandpa said she needed to be with family. So, we moved into Hunter Hall, and Grandpa and Archie took care of her.
Losing Archie has been a shock of the worst kind. I’d known him since I was a kid. His stroke and subsequent passing took us by surprise, and it’s been especially hard for Grandpa.
But I’m starting to realize that death is as much a part of life as living is.
So long as I don’t lose Taylor or Grandpa anytime soon, I can handle it.
We had planned to move back to my—our—apartment in London once Taylor’s radiation therapy had come to an end. But, now, with Archie gone, we’ve decided to stay at Hunter Hall for the foreseeable future. I don’t want Grandpa to be alone, and neither does Taylor. And, honestly, Hunter Hall is the only place that’s ever really felt like home for me.
I’ll just keep commuting into London when I need to be there for business.
And staying here works well, as Taylor is hoping to be accepted to Oxford for a master’s in English literature. She hopes to one day become a lecturer just like her dad was.
She put her application in a few weeks ago, so now, we just have to wait.
I’m confident she’ll get in because she’s smart.
But, really, all I care about is that she’s looking to the future, a future with me.
I open the passenger door for Taylor and wait until she’s in before I shut the door behind her. I get in the driver’s side, and we wait for my grandpa. He climbs in the backseat a few minutes later.
I turn the engine on, and we head back to Hunter Hall for the wake where we’ll celebrate Archie’s life with good food and good friends.
It’s late in the evening. The wake ended hours ago. Grandpa went up to bed early.
Taylor and I decided to get an early night, too. It’s been an emotionally tiring day, and I don’t want her overdoing herself. She might have the all-clear, but I still want her to take things easy.
I’ve just gotten out of the shower, and I’m walking back into the bedroom, a towel around my waist.
I see Taylor sitting in the middle of our bed, legs crossed, a notepad in her lap, and she’s scribbling away. Her headscarf is still on. It bothers me that she feels the need to cover her head when it’s just her and me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She lifts her head, smiling at me. “I’m writing a new list.”