Page 67 of Date Knight (Roll for Romance #2)

Phil

B y the end of the week, I’d made all of the big decisions I’d needed to.

For starters, I had a big van with a wheelchair ramp, parked right next to my Ford Fiesta.

I hadn’t needed to sell Ethel’s Healey, but when I asked about it and she didn’t even remember that she had it, I knew it was okay to say goodbye.

And at least now I got to keep my own car.

Anil had lined up interviews with five different carers he knew for the next week, though I was still trying to convince him to take the job himself, and Jack and Alan would start work on Tuesday.

The binder would get a complete refresh once we knew exactly what the new setup would be.

I’d gotten a head start on packing up my craft room, having been able to take some time off work after seeing just how big Ethel’s nest egg was.

I only regretted that I hadn’t found out about it sooner so I could have invested it; we could have been paying some of our bills off the interest alone.

I was still determined not to use it for myself if I could help it– she was still relatively healthy, and her care would only get more and more expensive over the years– but it felt really good to have it there just in case.

Plus, we’d finally gotten a dishwasher, and it was as life changing as I’d thought it would be.

It was the end of the first week of September, still sweltering outside, and the hawthorn berries had started to emerge on the tree out front.

It would be a while before they were ripe, but it felt good to see them there anyway, knowing I could harvest them and make something that meant so much to me.

Ethel was having a good day, too. She wheeled herself slowly through the front door and down the makeshift ramp we’d created, parking herself next to me where I sat on the bench soaking up some sunshine.

I tried not to rush to help her; Anil had said to let her take the lead on when she needed help.

Once she was in place, I let myself close my eyes and enjoy the warmth again.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, and I nodded.

It was amazing how true it felt, too. I was still just as busy as I’d always been– I’d finished Amy’s dress the night after she’d brought the cavalry, but I’d replaced that workload with getting started on changes around the house.

But just knowing what my next steps were had made a bigger difference than I would have thought possible.

“You?” I asked, intending it as a throwaway comment, but I opened my eyes when Ethel didn’t respond and saw her frowning.

“I miss Amy,” she said, and I couldn’t help the gasp I made.

“Amy?” I asked, wondering if she was remembering the right person, but she just looked at me like I was the senile one.

“Amy? Your girlfriend?” She laughed. “I’m not that far gone yet.”

Not today , I thought, but obviously didn’t say. “Amy and I broke up,” I admitted. I’d told her this at least once before, but clearly she didn’t remember, since she reeled back in shock.

Then she smacked my arm out of nowhere.

“You’re an idiot if you let that one get away.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said, pretending her strike had actually hurt. “But what’s done is done.”

“God, you’re thick,” she said, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Really, Ethel?” I asked, incredulous. “Says the woman who can’t remember what day it is?” It had been a while since we’d joked like this; it was dark, sure, but I missed it.

“It’s Saturday, thank you very much, which I know from that handy new clock you got me.”

The new wall clock in the hallway was an aesthetic abomination– it was about two feet across with big red LEDs displaying the day, date, and time– but it did seem to help Ethel orient herself.

And it was in fact Saturday. Until a few weeks ago, I’d planned to be halfway to Manchester with Amy right now for the wedding, and then the ball.

“You don’t seem happy,” Ethel said, examining my face.

“Don’t I?” I asked, genuinely surprised. I was the closest to happy I’d been since I’d driven Amy away.

“You don’t,” she said, pressing the pad of her thumb to the centre of my forehead. “You look just like your father. He got the same wrinkle right there when he was upset.”

I smoothed my forehead with my hand as if that would undo all the frowning I’d been doing these last weeks. Hell, these last years.

“I’m not upset,” I muttered.

“Could have fooled me.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“Shut your dirty mouth,” she said, and I burst out laughing. God, I missed sharp-tongued Ethel. Getting glimpses of it was such a rare treat these days.

“What I’m trying to tell you,” she continued, “is that you’re just like your father was, like it or not. He worked so hard for you, and he left you with a lot, but he didn’t know how to be present.”

I frowned. She’d never said anything critical of my parents before, not once that I could remember.

“Learn from his mistakes, Phil. Be present. Don’t let life get away from you.”

“But what about you?” I asked. Because that was reality. If I was too present with Amy, with anything else, I’d miss the time I had left with Ethel. And there would never be enough of that.

She sighed. “I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

“It’s nothing compared to what you did for me.”

“That is my job, darling boy.”

“And this is my job.”

She huffed, indignant. “Oh, I’m a job, am I? Does that mean I can fire you?”

I frowned. “ Are you firing me? Gonna check yourself into a home?”

She chuckled and patted my leg. “No. But one day I won’t be here anymore, and you’ll be out of a job then.”

Jesus, I hated when she got all macabre like this. “That’s not happening any time soon.”

“And I don’t want it to,” she said. “But it’s an inevitability. I’m old now. I’m going to have bad days. I’m going to get hurt.”

“Not if I can help it,” I said quietly, but she carried on as if I hadn’t spoken.

“And one day I’ll be gone. And if you blame yourself for the natural circle of life, or you double down on trying to stop it, you’ll have nothing left at the end.

If you want me to be happy, if you want me to be at peace, then have a life.

Give me some sort of reassurance that you’ll be okay when I’m gone. Because right now I’m not convinced.”

My mouth pinched together at the thought of Ethel being gone.

Without Amy to pin all my hopes and dreams on, I genuinely couldn’t imagine my life without Ethel; when I tried, there was nothing there.

Maybe I needed to revisit Our Lore and remind myself what I’d once been able to picture for myself.

But that was all tied up in being with Amy; with a future I’d made impossible.

“I won’t be okay when you’re gone, no matter what.”

“You’re sweet,” she said. “But you’re wrong. I’ve seen how happy Amy makes you, and I refuse to be the reason you don’t get to have that.”

“It’s not you,” I insisted. “I screwed that up all on my own. I don’t deserve her. Or, at least, she deserves more than me. More than this.”

I didn’t specify what “this” was; I didn’t want to make Ethel feel she was the reason I couldn’t be with Amy.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text.

AMY

Got the dress. It’s incredible. Thank you. But I’m a little confused.

I started typing back straightaway, a smile on my face as I thought about her seeing it for the first time. Maybe it was arrogant to think so highly of my own work, but I knew it was an amazing dress. I’d poured everything I had into it, after all.

PHIL

Don’t be. It’s just a gesture. An olive branch, if you will. Enjoy the ball.

The message showed as read straightaway, and I stared at the phone, willing her to say more. To give me even a tiny glimpse of how she was. What she was feeling, besides confused. I hated that I’d made her feel anything but loved. Anything but wanted.

A painstakingly long moment later, she wrote back.

AMY

Thanks, Phil. Wish you were here.

I smiled down at my phone, hoping she was doing the same.

More than anything, I wished I were there with her.

Not so I could change things between us– maybe we were too far gone– but just to see her.

To know she’d be okay despite me, since she’d rejected my attempts to make sure she’d be okay without me.

“Do you love her?” Ethel asked, snapping me back into the moment.

“Yeah, of course I do,” I admitted. It was surprisingly easy, actually, admitting that to Ethel.

“If you love her, then you deserve her,” Ethel said, as if it were that easy. “And she couldn’t do any better than a man who knows her and loves her well.”

“I disagree,” I said to my hands. “I was pretty horrible to her.”

“Well then,” Ethel said, slapping her hands on her legs, “you know what you have to do.”

I laughed. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Grand gesture,” she said, doing what passed for a shrug, given that she didn’t quite have the shoulder mobility for a proper one anymore.

I hated how quickly my heart leapt at the idea that there was a way to get Amy back. That we could just ride off into the sunset together despite everything that had happened between us. That it was as easy as telling her that I loved her, and that I was sorry, and that I wanted to be with her.

But then again, hadn’t Amy done essentially that?

Minus the part about wanting to be with me, of course, but the grand gesture part?

She’d spent days working on a plan, had come here with everyone who loved me, and had put herself out there.

As far as she’d known, the cold way I’d spoken to her was what had been waiting for her here.

As far as she’d known, I would roll my eyes and lob a “Thanks but no thanks” at her before kicking her out.

But she’d come anyway, and told me she loved me, and made me promise to let them all help.

So the least I could do was put myself out there for her just in case… right?

Except I had no idea how to do that, and I couldn’t just ignore the reality of my life. I had Ethel with me, and Anil wasn’t here, and Amy was in Manchester.

In Manchester, in a perfect dress, in a literal castle. If I’d been looking for the perfect ingredients for a romantic gesture…

I shook my head. I was clearly getting carried away sat in the sun. I stood up to go inside and get some water, but Ethel grabbed my hand.

“So?” she asked, looking up at me expectantly. “Are you really not going to do anything?”

I looked down at my wonderful, generous, hilarious grandmother.

My life had revolved around her for so long, and I didn’t regret that even one bit.

She’d done the absolute best she could to take me in after the worst had happened, and I’d had an amazing life.

No part of me resented her for what I’d had to give up to take care of her in return.

Did I hate the disease eating away at her mind?

Of course I did. But Ethel herself? She was still my world.

But she was right. She wouldn’t be here forever. And if I thought about what my world looked like– maybe not after Ethel, because I still couldn’t fully picture that, but outside of Ethel perhaps– the only thing that mattered to me was Amy, and showing up for her the way she’d showed up for me.

Something focused inside me, and resolve settled over me. I’d have to be fast, but if we left now, we could make it happen.

“Let’s do it,” I said, and Ethel squeezed my hand and squealed. I’d never seen her so giddy.

“What can I do?”

“Start packing,” I said as I helped her up the ramp and inside. “We’re gonna need to stay away overnight.”

I pulled the door shut behind us and picked up my phone off the hall table where I’d left it, googling the number for the animal rescue. “You’ve got twenty minutes,” I said as Ethel wheeled herself down the hall, suddenly more spry than I’d seen her in months. “I have some phone calls to make.”