Promise Me Forever: Manhattan Ruthless
: Chapter 40

Edith Elizabeth Ryder departed this world not long after we arrived at the hospital. It was almost as though she was waiting for us to get there, waiting for her daughter to say goodbye. I had fucking tears in my eyes as Amelia spoke her piece, as she poured her heart and soul into those last few moments. Into the last few words she will ever share with her mom.

She might not realize it now, but those words will mean something to her later. They will comfort and console her, and she’ll know that her mom died with nothing but the sound of love in her ears. It’s the one blessing of a cursed day.

Amelia cried uncontrollably when Edith slipped away, throwing herself across the bed, her head on her mom’s chest as though expecting one final embrace. Still expected the comfort that her mother had always provided. It almost broke me seeing her like that, her grief so raw and brutal. I know that grief, that pain. I have felt the same unfathomable loss. Today, Amelia’s world shifted on its axis and changed forever.

If I understand all of that, then why do I feel like I’m doing such a bad job of caring for her? Why do I feel like I can’t communicate?

We dealt with the necessary paperwork and started the grim process that follows a loved one’s death. The nurse hugged her, and even Constantine held her close when we emerged into the evening. He’s fond of her, I know, and he lost his father last year. Something about grief is contagious; it infects those around you. Your sadness becomes their sadness, and even if you are mourning completely different people, those primal feelings are communal. Amelia’s pain taps into my pain about my own mother, and undoubtedly into Constantine’s about his father. We are united by a common thread of emotional agony.

I took her back to my penthouse and tucked her up in my bed. For once, neither of us is interested in sex, although I would give her that if she seemed to need it. Right now, though, I’m not sure what she needs.

She refused food, refused wine, and she continues to refuse to really talk to me. I’m at a loss as to how to help. How to fix this.

“Can you just hold me?” she asks, her eyes huge, her skin pale.

“Always,” I say, climbing under the covers with her. Wrapping her in my arms, I gently kiss her hair.

Her body shakes as she starts to cry. “It just doesn’t feel real.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “I know it doesn’t. That will take a while, baby. There’s a hard road ahead, but you’ll survive it. And I’ll be on that road with you, every step of the way.”

She nods against my chest, and I feel so helpless. Useless. Less in every possible way. What can I do for her? What could anybody have done for me? When my mom died, I was devastated. The pain was like acid, burning away everything else around it. Whenever I was in pain, I wanted my mom—and she was gone.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, mi rosa? Anything at all that you need?”

“No. I wish there was. I just feel so empty, you know? And scared. I’m scared that if I close my eyes, I’ll go to sleep, and then when I wake up, I’ll think that all of this was just a bad dream and have to go through it all again. Do you … Do you really think she heard me?”

“I absolutely do. And I think what you said was beautiful.”

Unlike my final words with my mom. They weren’t so beautiful. In fact, they’ve haunted me ever since. She doesn’t need to know that—not right now, anyway. The next few weeks will be all about her.

“I suppose I have to tell people,” she murmurs against my skin.

“Can I help with that? Is there anyone you’d like me to call for you?”

She’s about to answer when her phone rings. She left it in her bag when we got back to my place, so I brought it in and set it on my nightstand in case she needed it later. I pass it over to her, my chest contracting with anger when I see that it’s Chad, but I clamp down on my emotions. Not the time or the place, and I certainly don’t want to remind her of what happened the last time he called.

She glances at me nervously, and I shake my head. “It’s fine, mi rosa. Go ahead.”

She nods but takes the call on speakerphone, maybe to reassure me. Jeez. Am I that much of an asshole? I suppose I am.

“Hi Mimi,” he says, and I cringe inside. Now, this guy is a real asshole. “The hospital called me. I guess I’m still on that list.”

“Oh, Chad! I’m so sorry. I really should have sorted that out.”

“Angel face, don’t give it a second thought. I’m just so sorry. How are you doing?”

She sniffles and swipes at her eyes. “I’m … not so good. You know how it was between us.”

“I do, Mimi. You were so close. Other people don’t understand it, that bond—you had no siblings, and she raised you alone. You were each other’s world. You must feel like yours has ended.”

Fuck. He’s right. I didn’t consider that. At least when my mom passed, we all had each other. That might not have always helped, but we had our shared memories, our shared experiences. We can all stand in Nathan’s office and look at that painting of the beach in Spain and all know what it means to us. Amelia, though? She must feel so alone in this. Like part of her past has died too.

“I do, Chad. I really do. I know you two didn’t always see eye to eye⁠—”

“Hey, let’s be honest, she fucking hated me. And who can blame her after the way I treated you? She was always such a fierce mama bear. You remember, that’s what you used to call her. You bought her that stuffed grizzly when we went on that trip to Vancouver our senior year.”

Amelia smiles, which is a small miracle. “Yeah. She loved that bear. She still has it in her room, you know?”

The tears start again, and I have no clue what to do for her. She looks up at me, those huge wet eyes seeming to say something that I don’t understand, and shakes her head. “Chad, I have to go, okay? I’ll let you know about the funeral arrangements.”

“Okay, Mimi. You know I’m always here for you, right? Anything you want, even if it’s just to talk about her, to share memories. Reach out anytime.”

Well, fuck. I hate Chad. The asshole cheated on her, broke her heart, and made her feel worthless as shit. Added to that, he’s a slimy motherfucker with an ego the size of a planet. But what he just said? That was perfect. It was exactly what she needed.

She curls back up into my arms, and I make soothing noises and hold her tight. I do my best to make her feel safe, to make her feel less alone. But part of me wonders if I’m man enough for the job. And that part seems to grow bigger with every moment that passes.