Page 162 of The Story of You

“You are a strange man, Shanni, but fuck do I love you.” I kiss him slowly and then I deepen the kiss until we hear the screen door open and shut.

Simon and Shane.

“Don’t mind us, we’re just doing Darius’s bidding. He wanted all these books,” Simon says. “How much V.C. Andrews can one man read?”

I don’t know where we’re going to put those. I break away from Lakshan. “Hang on. I’ll have to do some rearranging, which might include tying Darius to the roof.”

* * *

Silas

When we’re finally loaded with too much stuff and too many people, it’s squished and uncomfortable … for them. I get the luxurious driver’s seat.

“Whose grand idea was it to travel together?” Darius complains.

“Yours,” Oliver reminds him.

“Everyone is supposed to stop me.”

“Yeah, because that always goes over well and you listen to everyone,” Oliver counters.

I slam the door shut, uninterested in hearing any more bickering. I’m ready to ship everyone back in an airplane. We have one more stop to make though and we’ll have to make it by vehicle. “Lakshan, call ahead and book an airplane,” I tell him when I get in on the driver’s side.

“Nooooo!” Darius and Oliver whine at the same time.

“We want to stop for doughnuts at that place we saw,” Oliver says. “They’re super magical, Baba.”

“Yeah, and we were looking forward to staying a night in the haunted mansion,” Darius adds.

Everyone shouts the thing they were looking forward to on the way back—stops on the non-existent itinerary that are news to me—and I hold my hand up to silence them. “Fine. But if I hear even one more bickering match between anyone, I’m driving to the nearest airport.”

“Can we at least have music, Dad?” Oliver says.

“Yeah, road trips need music, Silas,” Simon agrees.

“You can have music … but Lakshan is in charge of the music.”

They groan. Lakshan won’t allow anyone two song choices in a row. No one likes taking turns.

After a quick stop for flowers, I take us to the cemetery where Mama’s gravestone is. It’s only the second time the Randalls have been here. The first was the day of her funeral.

There’s a new gravestone there. Right. Aleksander would have wanted to be buried with her. I guess. It’s now a wide plaque with the name “Randall” centered at the top. On either side are their names with dates of birth and death. In the center is a heart with their wedding date.

Oliver kneels, ghosting a hand over her name. “Helena Olivia Briar Randall,” he says, smiling. “I’m gonna wear the hell out of your pretty dresses, Mama.” He kisses his hand and presses it to her name.

“Mama from before she was sick would have gotten a kick out of this. She would be so bummed she didn’t get to meet everyone,” Darius says.

“We’re meetin’ her now, darlin’. I’ve got him, ma’am,” Wyatt says. “You don’t have to worry.”

“We all do,” Shane adds. “It takes four men to look after one Darius, Mrs. Randall.”

Oliver snickers, but wisely keeps his thoughts to himself. He stands and curls around Julius who puts an arm around him. He says something in Italian meant for Mama. Oliver beams at him.

I place the flowers for Mama. Lakshan kneels with me. “I keep you in my prayers every night, Mama Randall. Your son takes the best care of me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to tell her you take care of me?”

“I do no such thing,” he denies.