Page 66

“Our baby died,” Grace whimpered. “Our baby, nobody else’s, and maybe I am selfish and maybe I don’t care about anyone else right now. That was our baby.”

Tears streamed freely down their cheeks.

“I know. And you’ve every right to be angry and sad. Just…let me be angry and sad with you.”

Hands reached for one another and the moment they connected, the tears became sobs for them both. Caz pressed the release button on Grace’s seatbelt and pulled her into her arms.

“I’ve got you.”

Chapter Forty-One

The drive home didn’t feel as long now. It was still silent in the car, but the oppressive cold shoulder had lifted and it was a more comfortable silence.

An acceptance.

Caz usually reversed onto the drive, but today it didn’t seem to matter how easy it was to get off the drive in the morning. She’d already decided neither of them were leaving the house for work.

“Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll make us a hot drink and we can just—”

Grace stopped walking, her eyes leading Caz to follow her gaze and stop talking. Gertie was swinging, hands gripping the ropes as her legs shot out in front and her little body flew back and forth through the air, in rhythm with her screams echoing her delight.

Caz put her arm around Grace and led her towards the house.

“That should have been us,” Grace whispered as Caz pushed the key into the lock and tuned it.

“I know.”

What else could she say? She didn’t want to offer meaningless platitudes or promises of things she wasn’t surethey could keep. There wasn’t anything she could say to make it better. Every thought just felt so trite.

So she said the most British thing she could think of, “Let’s get the kettle on, eh?”

Making herself busy, Caz filled the kettle and flicked it on. From her peripheral view, she could see Grace pulling off her suit jacket and untying her hair. Even in the depths of despair and distress, she looked beautiful, and Caz mentally slapped herself for thinking so. It wasn’t the time for that, was it?

“Did you want tea or coffee?”

Grace stared at her. “I don’t mind.”

“Alright,” Caz smiled, taking the lead, “tea it is.”

She pulled down the caddy from the cupboard and spooned three heaped scoops into the pot, ignoring the fact she hadn’t warmed it first. When the kettle boiled and hissed, she poured the water in, gave it a quick stir, and popped the lid on.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, attempting to stay as upbeat as she could. She wouldn’t let Grace fall into the misery she’d suffered at Christmas. Grieving was something they’d do together this time.

“Not really,” Grace answered, with no real interest in the question.

“What about—” Caz was turning, carrying the teapot and two cups in her hands.

“You should probably just move out now,” Grace said, looking up at her, expressionless.

Caz halted.

She replayed those words over in her head to make sure she’d heard right and then continued forward. She put the teapot and the cups down and proceeded to pour.

“Why would I do that?” Caz asked calmly, pulling the chair out and sitting to the side of Grace.

Grace sighed.

“I don’t understand the logic. Why would I leave? This is my home. We’re committed to—”