33

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ISABELLA

"I'm so sorry for your loss." A woman with blond hair hugs Miles. I can tell he's never seen her before, but he hugs her anyway while I stand here sipping my lemonade.

It's been a long day.

Yesterday evening was the viewing for Millie and Lilly, well, Mrs. Cunningham. They had them together since they were such close friends. And this afternoon was the burial, which I think was harder for Miles.

Now we're at the reception which is being held in Miles' childhood home. This place is enormous. It's not in the city, it's on the outskirts where all the extremely expensive homes are. It has a long driveway with a gate at the end. And when you drive up in front of the house, it is a jaw-dropping two-story mansion. Ivy and ferns snake up the fountain that sits in the center of the circle driveway.

Miles has been staying here for the past couple of nights. He told me I could stay with him tonight. I'm honestly worried to leave him by himself, so I'm glad he asked.

He's been awfully quiet. The only time he says anything is when he's thanking someone or when I ask him if he needs a break. The answer is normally no.

"This is the worst he's ever been," a voice says from behind, startling me. I quickly avert my gaze from Miles to Mr. Cunningham, whom the voice belongs to.

"Oh yeah," I swallow, collecting myself. "He isn't talking much."

Mr. Cunningham runs his hand through his hair, just like Miles does when he's nervous. "He isn't eating much either," he says.

"I'll try to get him to."

"Thank you, Isabella. I'm glad you're here for him." Mr. Cunningham nods, then resumes watching his son talk to guests.

I'm pleased Mr. Cunningham seems to ease up on Miles. Especially after all the stories Miles has told me. But it's hard for me to picture Mr. Cunningham the way Miles described; he seems so different now. All I see is a father attempting to make amends with his son. Which is perfect, because that is the only family Miles has now.

He disappears into the crowd, leaving me by myself. I'm not sure what to do. I don't know any of these people here. The only ones I know are Addy and Jasper, but I told them they didn't have to stay. They offered, but I said I'd be alright on my own.

I exhale and toss my cup in the trash. I need some fresh air, so I tell Miles I'm stepping outside, but he doesn't hear, so I just go on my own. Pushing the balcony doors open, the air engulfs me, and I rest my elbows on the rail.

Putting hundreds of people together in a small space who are all grieving isn't my cup of tea. Standing out here, staring into the beautiful garden below, eases my nerves.

"Are you alright?" an unfamiliar voice questions, causing me to turn and look. A guy that looks around Miles' age stares at me.

"I'm fine, thanks." I smile and turn my attention back to the perfectly landscaped yard. The next thing I know, the brunette-haired boy is beside me.

"I don't believe we have met before, I'm Finn Cunningham." He extends his hand with a welcoming smile. Cunningham? I know for a fact Miles doesn't have any siblings, so he must be a cousin.

"I'm Isabella Gallagher, it's nice to meet you, Finn." I smile.

"Oh, Gallagher!" His eyes light up. "Are you Miles' girlfriend?"

"Yes, I am."

"I've heard great things about you. I'm his cousin, by the way." Ah, I was right.

"I hope he's been saying good things." I laugh as people shuffle past us.

"No need to worry, only good things. He was telling me not too long ago that he—" He tries to continue but is interrupted.

"Hey, I was looking for you," Miles says, sliding his arm around my waist. He speaks! I think that is the most he has said to me all day.

"Sorry I needed some fresh air," I say.

"That's okay, I see you've met Finn." Miles raises an eyebrow with a smug smile on his face. I quickly bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. If I would've known meeting Finn would make him smile, I would've done it way sooner.

"Yes, I have." I nod towards him. "He's very nice."

"Why thank you." Finn flickers his eyebrows, trying to make Miles jealous. They seem close, and now that they're standing beside each other, I notice the resemblance between them.

Miles rolls his eyes, then turns towards me. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

"I would love to, Milesey-poo!" Finn butts in, batting his eyelashes.

I chuckle as Miles hits him in the arm. "I was talking to Bell, idiot."

"Rude much." Finn folds his arms. I'm glad to see some actual emotion. I feel as if Millie or his mother wouldn't want him moping around. Instead, they would want him smiling. I want him smiling.

"I'd love to," I say before Finn says anything else. And before I know it Miles is dragging me through the house, down a flight of stairs, and out a back door. When we reach the grass, I slip my high heels off.

We walk in silence. Our hands sway at our sides as we walk through the garden pathway. Everything is in bloom and the sweet smell of flowers fills the air. If I lived here, I would probably spend most of my time sitting in the grass reading.

"You know this was my mother's garden," Miles says out of the blue, not facing me.

"It's lovely, she had a green thumb."

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, she did. Even as she got worse, she never stopped gardening."

I don't respond. Instead, I fasten my pace until I've caught up beside him. He looks towards me with a sad smile, then faces the front again. I wonder what's going on inside his head. He is so quiet.

"So is your dad going to let us sleep in the same room?" I laugh, already knowing the answer.

He raises his eyebrow. "I would hope so. Actually, I've never had a sleepover with a girl in that bedroom."

"So I'll be the first, huh?" I smirk at him.

"Not unless I make you sleep on the couch." He smirks back.

"You wouldn't."

"Want to bet, Beauty?" His lips curl up, revealing his dimples. Please keep smiling, I plead internally.

Redirecting my attention forward, I think about what it would be like if Miles' mother was here. If she hadn't come down with the horrid disease, would we have a good relationship? Would she like me? Would Miles be a different person?

Although I've only seen pictures, I imagine her sitting out in the garden under the sweltering heat while tiny Miles runs around. He was probably just as ornery when he was younger as he is now. The thought makes me smile.

"What are you smiling about?" His comment catches me off guard.

"I'm just thinking about you as a kid," I say truthfully. We make a turn out of sight from the house and come across an enormous oak tree. I lean against the tree; the shade is refreshing.

"I see." He nods. "And what are you picturing?"

"A tiny boy who caused a lot of trouble."

He smiles at my answer and shuffles toward me. I step closer to the tree until my back becomes flush with the bark. He hovers over and my heartbeat accelerates when his fingers reach upward to graze my cheek. I know he's not sure how to feel right now, his emotions are running rampant.

"Are you hanging in there?" I graze his hand.

He nods, resting his forehead against mine, then says, "We should probably get back."

✤

"Thank you for coming." Miles nods, shutting the door as the last guest leaves. Mr. Cunningham has retired to his study with a bottle of whisky whilst their housemaid cleans.

Miles reverted to his one-word replies. I'm not sure what happened within the last hour, but he's acting differently again and it's killing me. I can't stand seeing him so sad.

"I'll be right back," he states, walking to his dad's office and disappears into the room. I sigh and perch myself at the kitchen counter.

"Ms. Gallagher." The older lady with black hair smiles at me. "I have taken your bag up to Mr. Cunningham's room."

"Thank you." I smile, and she returns to cleaning.

I feel like a waste of space, so I get up and help. It is the least I can do. I pick up cups and place them into a large garbage bag.

That's when all the thoughts come rushing into my head. Does Miles truly want me here? Or does he just feel obligated to have me around right now? I remember when my father passed away, I wanted to be left alone. Does he want to be left alone? I wish I knew the answers to these questions.

"Miss, you don't have to help," the maid says.

"It's alright." I smile. "I insist."

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes pass, and Miles is still in his dad's office. Everything is cleaned up and now I'm just sitting here aimlessly, staring at the wall. I'm ready to get out of this dress, so I take the liberty and walk up to Miles' room with the help of the maid, Marian.

"If you need anything, please holler!" she says before I shut the door.

"I will, thank you!" The door clicks shut, and I turn around, running my hand up the wall for the light switch. When I feel it, I turn it on, illuminating teenage Miles' room.

A smile spreads across my face.

The room is quite large. On the furthest grey wall is his king-size bed with a navy-blue bedding and a dark brown headboard. Above are posters of expensive cars and one with a model in a skimpy bikini. I chuckle to myself and avert my gaze to the rest of the room.

On the left wall, there are floor-to-ceiling windows that surround the balcony doors. I walk over, observing the view. A perfect sight of the garden, how sweet. I picture little Miles sitting here watching his mother's garden or lying on his bed looking through a car magazine. I need to see pictures of him when he was little. I bet he was absolutely adorable.

After I'm done being weird and obsessive, I grab my bag and head to the bathroom connected to his room.

I strip out of my black dress and slide into one of Miles' tee-shirts, sighing with relief. Taking off tight clothes is like taking off a bra, you feel so free. I take my makeup off and brush my teeth before heading into his room.

Once everything is settled, I climb under his silky covers, opening the book I brought with me. However, I can't comprehend any of the words on the pages. I keep re-reading the same line over and over, wondering when Miles will join me.

As it gets later and there is still no sign of Miles, I let my eyes fall shut.

In what I believe to be the middle of the night, I find it difficult to breathe. My eyes spring open, but I'm met with darkness. Wondering what time it is, I attempt to turn over, but I am glued in place.

I slowly reach down and feel a wad of hair resting on my stomach. I release the breath I didn't notice I was holding. It's Miles.

Gently, I reach for my phone to check the time, which reads four-forty in the morning.

"Bell?" a groggy voice whispers, causing me to freeze. "Are you up?"

"I just woke up," I say.

Suddenly, I can breathe as Miles sits up, repositioning himself. My eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness, so I can make out his silhouette. I smile when I see his bedhead and sleepy face.

"Why are you up?" he asks.

"I'm not sure, I just woke up. Why are you up?"

He shrugs. "Can't sleep."

I turn onto my side, tucking my hands under my cheek. "Want to talk about it?"

He hesitates to answer, then shakes his head no.

"That's okay," I say. "Come here, then."

He obliges, lying back down on the bed, and faces me.

"Thanks for being here today, Beauty," he says into the quiet moonlight room. Abruptly, he leans in, planting a kiss on my forehead. My skin ignites from his touch. Wanting to give something in return, I stroke the side of his face and his eyes close.

We lie in silence. I want to reassure him he will get through this, but I keep my mouth shut.

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