Wickedly Sweet ✔️

Chapter 25: Daan

My Grandmother died on a sunny evening in June. That same day, my world lost all its light.

That statement was so fucking unfair to Noa but I couldn't see past the storm clouds weighing heavily above.

Sat on the floor of the conservatory, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lighter in the other, I bounced the small red cylinder off the tiled floor and contemplated burning the place to the ground. I didn't want to leave this conservatory—the place where my grandmother died—but I could no longer stand how suffocating the air felt in it. Why didn't she give me more time?

I closed my eyes and I almost heard her; singing while she cooked in the kitchen behind me. I wait and wait, but she's not coming. Whenever I opened my eyes, the light I thought I saw peeking through my lids was overcast with grief. She's never walking through that door again.

There was a black hole at my feet, waiting for me to drown inside and all the cruel words I'd thought since she left were haunting me.

All the harsh ways I'd pushed Noa away. I pushed and pushed, yet she was undeterred by my shift in mood. She was hell bent on keeping the bakery going and after she spent all day trying to infuse some life into that doomed business, she would make it her mission to drag some of that light into this house.

I didn't want her to light up my world. I wanted her to get angry, fight me, and slam that fucking door on the way out. Because I was angry. Angry at my grandmother for not telling us she was sick sooner. Angry at Noa for not noticing when they worked together every day. Angry at myself for not being there at the end. And angry at God for not giving me more time.

But the truth was I couldn't bear to lose another person I loved—another person who loved me.

This loss was so different to losing an absent father or a noncommittal step-father. This was the loss of a person who loved me unconditionally—like my mother had—and who once again, I couldn't say goodbye to.

***

"Sorry for your loss."

"Madeleine was a wonderful woman and will be greatly missed."

"Such a lovely service. The sun really came out for her today."

"She's in a better place now."

I lifted my chin for the first time since we walked back into Gran's house and shook my head before downing the tumbler of whiskey Noa had placed in my hand. I always loathed that saying. Because selfishly, a better place would be at home, healthy and with me.

My sister was adamant Gran would want her wake back here but I didn't feel comfortable having all these people milling around, prodding and poking at her belongings. And I definitely didn't feel comfortable with their hollow condolences.

Anika and Noa kept themselves busy, passing trays of food around the room, smiles plastered on their faces. Even their small talk had a cheerful edge to it.

I hated that as well.

I understood why they did it but I didn't want to be made to feel like I had to keep up with them. Not that they would. Well, especially not Noa. They didn't have it in them.

"Maybe you should eat something." Anika shoved a plate piled with food under my nose. "Drinking all day on an empty stomach isn't good for anyone."

Sounds great to me. She sat beside me and balanced the plate on my lap. I glanced down at it and couldn't think of anything worse. "I'm not hungry."

"I know. But what kind of sister would I be if I didn't look after you?" She patted my knee and released a deep sigh. "While I'm playing the role of loving and wise sister—remember that—can I give you some advice?"

"You're going to give it whether I say yes or no." I really want another glass of whiskey, so she better hurry with her advice. I followed Noa's every movement, hoping she'd read my mind and bring the bottle of whiskey over.

"That girl over there—the one who looks like she'd jump in front of a bus for you—loves you. And I know you love her, so stop pushing her away."

"I'm not." I couldn't remember my mother but I was almost certain Anika had mastered the motherly side-eye she would have used when I was lying. "Not intentionally anyway."

"Bullshit. Sorry Father." Anika stooped her shoulders and grimaced as Father Peters chose that very moment to walk past us. "I mean, tell that to yourself but I know otherwise. You'd have to be blind not to see the wall you've built around yourself the last couple of weeks. But even if I hadn't noticed it, Noa let slip how you can barely stand to be in the same room as her when she checks in on you. You keep that up and she won't be around much longer to put up with your moody arse."

"She said that?" I moved the plate and glass off my lap and clamped my hands together. "I don't know if I can love her the way she deserves."

Noa hovered at the edge of the kitchen doorway, subtly rocking back and forth. She chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, but smiled whenever someone brushed past her. I am an arse.

"Don't sell yourself short, Danny. You're grieving. I get that. Hell, Noa gets that. All I'm saying is while you do it, don't lock out the one person who could make all of this better." She pressed a light kiss to the side of my head. "I don't want to leave you like this but we have to put Maggie to bed."

I wiped a hand over my face and grumbled a muffled yep. "Let me walk you to your car."

After Anika left with her husband, I found my half empty bottle of whiskey and perched myself on the bottom step of the stairs in the hallway. I stayed there until gradually each guest grew tired of the stilted conversations in the living room and they made their excuses to leave.

Thinking I had left my own grandmother's wake, they all acted surprised when they saw me there as Noa thanked them for coming but thankfully none of them uttered more than a short goodbye.

"That's the last of them gone." She shut the door and rested her forehead against the wooden frame for a minute. "I'll clean the last of the plates and be on my way."

She could barely look at me as she walked past and I wasn't much better. Anika's words played in a loop in my mind. I was one selfish bastard because I didn't believe I deserved to love her, but I wasn't ready to let her go.

The scent of coconut lingered in the hallway and without another thought I followed after her, grabbed her hand and spun her round.

"What are you doing?"

"Not talking."

My grip hardened as I bunched some of the fabric of her dress in one hand and flattened my palm against her lower back to press her body against mine. Her breath huffed against my lips while her wide gaze took me in. One second she was staring at me with pleading eyes, the next her fingers were digging into my neck as I stole each moan from the kisses she willingly surrendered.

I'd ask for forgiveness later.