Theo comes to a stop in front of me as we walk around the front of the car. ‘Are you sure you want to be here, babycakes?’
‘It’s ironic I’m here to pay my last respects to a man I have absolutely no respect for,’ I reply with sarcasm in my voice. ‘Despite everything, Theo, both Brock and Joshua have been wonderful to me, so I want to be here for them.’
‘You’re amazing. This is exactly why I love you.’ He places a chaste kiss on my forehead. ‘If at any time it feels too much, just say the word and we’re gone.’
‘Thanks, Theo. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.’
‘It’s been no hardship, Jade, I love being around you. You’re not only the best fake girlfriend a gay guy could ask for, you’re the dearest friend I have.’
‘I adore you too,’ I say as my hands snake around his waist and my head rests on his chest. It doesn’t escape me that he just told me he loved me, and again I couldn’t say the words back. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I tell the people I care about that I love them? Brock has expressed his true feelings towards me, yet I’ve never once told him I reciprocated them. Now I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance to tell him how I really feel about him.
Theo’s hand is firmly clasped around mine as we walk across the grassed area towards the people milling by the freshly dug grave. This is the first funeral I’ve ever attended and I’m grateful when he comes to a stop at the back of the crowd. I’m happy to stay here; it’s not like either of us were close with this man. I’m not sure if Theo even met him when he was alive.
My chest tightens and my breath hitches the moment I see Brock. He looks awful. Well, not awful—this is Brock Weston we’re talking about, it would be almost impossible for him to look awful. What I should’ve said is he looks tired, and kinda lost. I can see the black rings under his eyes from here. He looks like he hasn’t shaven or slept in days. The sight of him tears at my heart.
He’s staring at the coffin in front of him. His face is totally void of any emotion. I just want to run over there and wrap him in my arms. My gaze eventually moves to his mother, who is seated beside him. Her head is bowed as she wipes a tear from her eye. I notice Brock’s hand is tightly gripped around hers. Joshua is sitting on the other side of her, his hand placed on her knee for comfort. I’m glad she has her boys looking after her.
When my eyes meet Joshua’s, I’m surprised to see him looking straight at me. I give him a weak smile when he nods his head. I watch as he leans slightly across Elaine to whisper something to his brother.
Brock’s head snaps up and his eyes scan the mourners until finally stopping on me. I have to fight back the tears when I see him sigh before the corner of his mouth turns up slightly. Unfortunately, it’s gone as quickly as it appears, and the solemn look returns to his face. Is he happy I’m here? I hope so.
All the air seems to leave me when a woman places her hand on Brock’s shoulder. Clarissa. There’s a smug, satisfied look on her bitchy face that has me wanting to slap her. Why does this woman bring out the worst in me? Is this why I haven’t seen or heard from Brock? Has he been seeking comfort from her?
I stare at the grass by my feet. Regardless of my misconceived notions, coming here today was a mistake. I feel Theo’s arm slide around my waist as he pulls me protectively into his side. I guess he just witnessed the same thing I did.
Eventually, things get underway. Nothing the priest says registers. My mind is in a complete haze. On the few occasions I involuntarily look at Brock, I’m surprised to find his eyes firmly fixed on me. His expression is still empty, so I’m finding it hard to judge what he’s thinking. Clarissa’s perfectly manicured yet grubby little hand hasn’t left his shoulder. I know I shouldn’t let her get to me, but she does. A lot. I don’t want her or her hands anywhere near Brock.
Once the coffin has been lowered, the priest invites the family to place dirt into the hole. Brock helps his mother to her feet. My eyes shamelessly rake over his tall, lean body in his tailor-made black suit.
Elaine goes first, followed by Joshua. I concentrate on Brock as he squats down, sprinkling the dirt onto the casket. Tears fill my eyes when I see him mouth the word ‘sorry’, as he looks into the hole. I have no idea why he’d feel the need to say that. Maybe he’s having regrets about the tumultuous relationship he had with his father. It pains me to think he’s suffering.
I’m rooted to the spot as the guests begin to offer their condolences to the family. I don’t want to go over there. I’m scared. But this might be the last time I ever get to be near Brock, so my legs are moving in that direction before my brain even realises what’s happening.