“Yes. We will drive there now,” she said. “I’ll see you later. And Mom, I’m so sorry.”
“I love you, too.”
When she ended the call, tears filled her eyes. “My grandmother passed away in the middle of the night. Mom’s sending my grandfather’s jet to pick me up in Montgomery. They’re already in California. My grandfather called Mom at three this morning to tell her. She and Dad got on a plane shortly after and left.”
This was the last thing I expected for her to say. “God, Lila, I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “Me too. For my grandfather’s sake. She was never there you know. Her mind has been gone for so many years. It’s a miracle she lived so long. But Kiro has spent my entire life at her side. They stopped touring because he hated being away from her. Their whole story is just heartbreaking. My mom never got to know her. Her brain has been damaged since Mom was a baby.”
I knew their story. It had made the headlines when it was revealed that Kiro Manning’s wife Emily was in fact still alive. The world had thought she’d died in that accident. But he’d kept her safe from the media. They had even made a movie called “Kiro’s Emily” about ten years ago that had been a box office hit. Kiro hadn’t didn’t want the movie made at first, but the interview he did for Rolling Stones magazine said that he had changed his mind. He wanted the world to know his Emily. What she had been like. How amazing she was. She deserved it.
I walked Lila back to my bike and helped her on. I put the helmet on her head and wished there was more I could do. Anything else. Something to help. I dreaded putting her on that jet and watching her leave me. Our time was ending sooner than I had expected.
She held onto me tighter than before. My throat felt thick. There was fucking emotion there I didn’t understand. That I didn’t want. This had been a way to protect her, get her out of my system, and move on. For both of us. But one night wasn’t enough. I was selfish. Her grandmother had just passed away. But dammit this sucked.
The ride to Montgomery airport was too fast. Our time together was ending. This small bubble we had was about to burst. I’d head back home and face the heat with Dad. Do what the hell I was supposed to. She’d return, and it would be like before. We weren’t going to pick up where we left off. That would make this more than a fling. That would make the motherfucking lump in my throat mean something.
Hurting Lila Kate was inevitable for me. If I did it later, it would hurt more. Sooner was best. Sooner would help us both move on. I’d never be the guy she needed. But damn if I’d expected it to hurt me too.
We had pulled into the airport before the private jet had arrived. I wanted to say something that made this all easier. That made the ache in my chest go away. That made that sad look in her eyes disappear. But I had nothing.
She climbed off the bike, and I got her things from the saddlebag. Then I turned to her. “Wasn’t expecting our journey to end so soon,” I said trying to smile.
“Me neither.”
I could see the question there. The uncertainty. She wanted to know if this was it for us. But she wouldn’t ask. And I couldn’t say the words. Even if I needed to, I couldn’t.
“Tell your parents and grandfather I’m sorry for their loss.” Her eyes lost their light. She had wanted me to say more than a simple generic condolence. I felt like a giant asshole.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “For everything.” Then she took her bag and walked away. I watched her leave. I wanted to run after her and say something more. To try to make her smile. But that would only make this worse. Instead, I waited until she entered the building. Then I climbed on my bike and headed back south. Back to Rosemary Beach.
Lila Kate
I WAS NUMB. The flight to LA and the ride to my grandfather’s house in Beverly Hills had all been a blur. When the limo that had picked me up at the airport parked in front of his mansion, I realized I didn’t even remember getting in the limo.
I grabbed the single bag I had with me and stepped out when the driver opened my car door. I hadn’t been to see Kiro in about six months. He’d visited us, but I hadn’t been here. When I was a kid I visited more often. I stayed a week with him in the summer. I had good memories of this place.
My mother came to the front door and walked out to greet me. I climbed the stairs and hoped she wasn’t too upset over my riding around on a motorcycle with Cruz. She had her dad to be worried about. I didn’t need to add to her stress. I knew I’d never get on Cruz’s bike again.