by Selena Kitt
“You look beautiful, Liv,” Beast assured her.
“Charmer. Just like your father.” Liv gave a tired laugh, opening her eyes. “He never could abide weakness. Strong as an ox, just like you—right until the end.”
Tilly saw the way Beast gritted his teeth at the comparison, but he didn’t contradict her.
“I hope there’s a heaven.” Liv’s words surprised Tilly—they’d never gone to church. It was the one thing Tilly had never had in common with her devoutly Catholic friend, Frankie. “Because I really want to see him again.”
Beast smiled at that. “What would you do if you saw him?”
“I don’t know,” Liv mused. “I’m not sure if I want to hug him or hit him.”
“Probably both.” Beast laughed. “I know the feeling.”
“I’m still mad at him for leaving me.” Liv’s mouth turned down and her eyes looked wet. Tilly had never heard her mother talk this way before, at least not in her presence. Did she always talk to Beast like this, when they were alone? “And you. I know I didn’t handle it well. I just wanted you to have the life he’d been trying to make for you. He loved you, Conrad. He just… had a hard time. Every time he looked at you, he remembered your mother…”
“Yeah, and he never could abide weakness,” Beast repeated her words, although there was steel in his. “Funny, considering his final act.”
“He’d be proud of you, Conrad.” Liv reached a hand out, urging him closer. Beast leaned in and she put her hand lightly on his cheek, stroking softly. It was a tender, intimate gesture and Tilly felt oddly jealous, although she wasn’t sure why. “You’ve always gone your own way. Even if I didn’t always agree with your choices. I admire you for that.”
“Thanks, Liv.”
Funny, how he’d never called her mother, Tilly thought, but Liv had always tried to be so much more of a mother to him than she’d ever been to her own daughter.
“I…” Liv glanced nervously over at Tilly, then back to Beast. “I’d like to talk to you. Just you, Conrad. Alone.”
“That’s fine,” Tilly said softly. Her throat felt hot, tight, but she couldn’t object. Hurt, she turned to go, but Beast grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to the bed.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say it to both of us,” Beast assured her. “I’m tired of keeping secrets.”
Liv gave a slow, resigned nod. To Tilly, she looked exhausted, like she’d lost the strength to fight.
“I just want you to know that I’ve changed my will.” Her hands, fingers like sausages, were clasped in her lap. “I’m leaving everything to you, Conrad. Including controlling interest in the business.”
“What?” Tilly stared at her mother, the word escaping her throat without any thought.
Beast frowned, looking between Liv and Tilly.
“Meg has her share of our parents’ inheritance—she’ll be fine. Besides, she was never interested in oil, or running things the way they need to be run,” Liv went on, looking down at her hands, then back up at Beast.
“What about Tilly?” Beast asked, sounding as incredulous as Tilly felt.
“Oh, she’ll be taken care of,” Liv assured him. “There’s a trust fund set up in her name that will pay out annually. Listen, Conrad, I know you were never interested in the business, but—you have to step up. You’re the only one I trust to take care of things… when… I’m…”
Tilly gaped at her mother in the sudden silence. Liv’s voice seemed to have run out, and she closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly as she struggled to breathe. Was this it? But no. Liv’s eyes opened again, coming to rest on Beast, who stood motionless beside her bed.
“Don’t let me down,” Liv murmured. “Please. I’m counting on you.”
Tilly couldn’t stand it another minute. She felt tears threatening and didn’t want her mother to see, so she turned and bolted, pushing past Gina, running blindly down the hallway. She heard Beast call after her but that just made her run faster. She found herself back in her own room.
She wanted to throw herself on the bed and cry, but Miles was there, poised over Scrabble’s cage, trying to feed him some of his food.
“Can Scwabble come out of the cage to play?” Miles asked.
Tilly nodded, hiding her tears as she unlatched the cage and let the ferret out. She handed him over to Miles, and Miles giggled as the animal crawled about his shoulders, and then into his hand where he was holding some food. Then Scrabble ran up Miles’s arm and nuzzled his cheek, making the boy giggle some more.
She let them sit on her bed to play, grabbing underwear and a bra out of her bureau before going into her walk-in closet to change out of Beast’s clothes. Not that she minded wearing them. They smelled like him. Once she was dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt, she folded Beast’s t-shirt and boxers, glancing around her closet for a place to hide them. She didn’t want the help coming in and discovering Beast’s clothes in her room. It was bad enough that Meg and her mother had seen her wearing them already.
She could have put them in the bathroom hamper, she supposed—but she didn’t want Miles asking any questions, either, so she pushed past her best dresses, all in plastic, until she found the ledge at the back of her closet. If she hid them back here, no one would find them until she could give them back to Beast. But Tilly didn’t stop there. Feeling her way along until she reached her fingers underneath the board she’d loosened, she pulled.
It was too dark to really see, but she felt them all, bundled together and tied with twine. She pulled them out, dusting off the letters and sneezing as she looked at her handwriting. There were at least a dozen letters here, still unopened, all refused.
“Tiwwy!” Miles called, giving a little squeal. “Scwabble’s wunnin’ away!”
Tilly flew out of the closet, tossing the letters onto her dresser, just catching Scrabble as he bee-lined for the open door.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she said, swinging her door closed—he could get under it, if he wanted to, but a closed door would slow him down at least. She handed the ferret over to Miles again. Scrabble ran circles—literally—around the little boy on the bed, until the latter was giggling madly, squealing with delight. Scrabble occasionally stopped to nibble on the food Miles still had in his hand.
Tilly sat on the bed with them, just to corral the ferret again if she had to.
“Tiwwy?” Miles held a piece of kibble out for Scrabble, who stopped to nibble it.
“Hmm?” Tilly’s eyes were beginning to droop. It had been an exhausting couple days, and she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep last night, considering how many times they’d both woken before dawn to make love again.
“Is Auntie Liv gonna die?”
This question brought Tilly fully awake. She blinked at him, wondering how much Meg and Kate had told him already. She didn’t want to be dishonest, but she didn’t want to scare him, either. He knew she was sick, of course. They couldn’t hide that—although Liv had tried.
“They think so,” Tilly told him softly. “The doctors and nurses have done everything they can to help her, but… well, they’ve run out of things to try. And now…”
Her tears tightened her throat, making it impossible to finish. Miles just nodded, his face thoughtful, solemn, as he stroked Scrabble’s dark grey fur. Tilly leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to will her sadness away. As if.
“So… will she go to heaven?” Miles asked, tilting his dark head at her.
She couldn’t help seeing Beast in the boy, every time she looked at him, now. All those beautiful dark curls, his handsome, upturned face, those near-black eyes. She wondered if Beast had been like this, as a child—smart, precocious, stubborn, determined to do what he wanted, get what he wanted.
“I hope so,” Tilly replied honestly, brushing curls away from his forehead.
“With Uncle Conrad?” Miles pressed further.
“What do you know about Uncle Conrad?” Tilly asked, smiling quizzica
lly. “Did Auntie Liv tell you about him?”
“Uh-huh.” Miles picked up Scrabble, pressing his nose—that was the only thing Tilly seemed to have passed on to him, physically anyway—against the rodent’s nose. “She showed me pictures of them. Auntie Liv wore a pwetty dress and she was smiling a lot. You had a pwetty dress, too, Tiwwy.”
Tilly nodded, remembering. The wedding had been a grand affair. Liv wouldn’t have settled for anything less. She was surprised that her mother had shared it with Miles, and it made her wonder. Liv had taken Miles from Tilly, but she hadn’t been completely heartless. She’d kept her grandson close, where she could still see him, talk to him, watch him grow up.
“I’m gonna miss Auntie Liv,” Miles said softly, kissing the top of Scrabble’s head. “But maybe she’ll be happier in heaven, with Uncle Conrad.”
Tilly couldn’t help her tears now. His words brought sobs up from deep in her chest and Tilly covered her face with her hands, bringing her knees up.
“It’s okay, Tiwwy,” Miles said, patting her on the arm with his chubby hand, which just made her cry harder. He wrapped his arms around her neck, a further attempt at comfort, and she pulled him to her. The two of them rocked back and forth, Tilly lost in her pain, not just grieving the loss of her mother, but all of her losses, including the little boy in her arms.
Neither of them noticed Scrabble taking his opportunity to escape, flattening himself to fit under the door Tilly had closed, until a knock sounded.
“Come in,” Tilly sniffed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
She looked up as the door opened and Beast stepped in, holding up a ferret.
“Almost had a jail break,” he said, locking the disappointed animal back in its cage.
He frowned when he turned and saw Tilly’s face, and she glimpsed herself in the mirror over her dresser, nose and cheeks red from crying. Then his gaze fell to her dresser and she froze, her breath catching in her throat as Beast touched the letters she’d left there. They were all there, all addressed to him, unopened.
When their eyes met, she felt tears slipping down her cheeks again, unable to stop them.
“I know what Tiwwy needs,” said Miles to Beast, hopping off the bed and dashing out of the room.
Beast watched him go, a strange look on his face, and Tilly knew what he was thinking.
He’s mine.
And she was thinking it, too.
He’s ours.
Beast came to sit beside her on the bed, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. She loved the way his hand swallowed hers, how he put his other hand over it, making hers disappear altogether. She leaned against his shoulder, sighing.
“I talked to Liv,” he told her softly. “Set her straight.”
“That would be a first.” Tilly snorted a laugh. “But if anyone could do it, it would be you.”
“I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I know she’s been so hard on you.”
“Funny, I was going to say it never ends.” She managed to choke out the words. “But it does… she’s dying… and I thought… believe it or not, some part of me really thought that I’d be happy. That it would feel like freedom. But… it just hurts…”
“I know.” He kissed the top of her head again, then again, and she could see him in the mirror, head bowed, eyes closed, over her. “I was so angry when my dad died—I wanted to bring him back to life, just so I could kill him again.”
She choked out a laugh at that as Miles dashed back into the room with a box of tissues in his hand. He jumped onto the bed on the other side of Tilly, pulled out a tissue, and began to wipe the tears from her face. She smiled and turned her face toward him so he could finish the job.
“Don’t cry,” Miles said earnestly, frowning over Tilly’s head. “Are you sad too, Beast?”
“Yes,” he admitted gruffly and she felt the press of his hand in hers.
“Know what makes me feel better, Tiwwy?” Miles asked, handing a Kleenex over her shoulder to Beast.
“What?” she sniffed.
“Pizza!” Miles announced, grinning, and Tilly laughed.
“That sounds good, big man,” said Beast. “Let’s go order a pizza.”
They ordered Miles’s favorite pizza—ham, pineapple and banana peppers—and Beast vetoed a Frozen sing-a-long, convincing Miles he had to see Star Wars. Beast had been appalled to discover his son had never heard of Luke Skywalker or Darth Vader, so they had all settled on the sofa to immerse themselves in a world of light sabers—which Miles now thought were way cooler than dinosaurs—and walking carpets called wookies.
They made it through the original Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and about a third of Return of the Jedi before Miles fell asleep, his head in Tilly’s lap. Meg had briefly objected about the choice of movie, but Beast had just given her a long, dark look, and she’d gone back upstairs to be with her ailing sister. Kate was up there with her. Tilly promised to keep Miles occupied, as she always did. The hours she’d spent “babysitting” Miles, wondering but never knowing for sure, made her heart ache.
Beast had stopped watching the movie. He was watching Miles sleep, seeing the way Tilly stroked the boy’s hair, and she glanced up at him.
“He looks just like you,” she whispered.
Beast cocked his head. “He’s got your adorable little nose.”
The eyes that met hers were filled with so much hurt, it took her breath away. She swallowed, trying to meet his gaze without looking away, feeling her mouth trembling with emotion.
“Why? Why did you give him up?” Beast’s voice was soft, a little hoarse. “Tilly, how could you do that?”
Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. Talking about it brought it back like a bad dream. If only she could have woken up from it. The anger, hurt and judgment in his voice just made it worse.
“She didn’t give me a choice.” Tilly found her voice, briefly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She wanted to scream at him—if you’d just opened my letters! She had hoped and prayed he would come home and rescue her, make it all better somehow, but he’d never come. Until now. And now, it was too late.
“I tried.” She stroked her little boy’s cheek with one trembling finger. “You returned all my letters, remember?”
“You told me?” he croaked. “You wrote me to tell me about him?”
She nodded. “You can go upstairs and read them all, if you want to.”
“Fuck.” He swore softly, unmindful of Miles, but he was sleeping anyway. “Tilly, if I’d known, I would’ve—”
“What?” Tilly shrugged, shaking her head. “You would have what? Come home to be a father? You were already headed to Afghanistan, and I was just seventeen…”
His face hardened. “There are plenty of girls who have babies at seventeen who don’t have the resources you do.”
“I know,” she agreed softly. Ironic, that those girls likely had more of a choice than Tilly had. She looked down at Miles and his angel face, his dewy skin, remembering the first time she’d held him, when he had been wholly hers, for one brief moment. She’d wanted nothing more than to have Beast there, to see and hold his son, but her letters had gone unanswered.
“I wanted to keep him,” she whispered. “I wanted him more than anything. If I couldn’t have you, at least I could have… part of you…”
Tilly smiled at the way Miles clutched his toy brontosaurus in one chubby little hand, although if tonight was any indication, he’d be asking for his own light saber soon enough.
“And he was so beautiful when he was born, Beast, you should have seen him. I told my mother I wanted to keep him.” Tilly lifted her gaze to meet Beast’s incredulous eyes. She could tell, he knew where this was going. “But she… she took him from me.”
“Took him?” Beast’s voice was low, soft, but his tone was dark. “Liv took him?”
“They weren’t supposed to give him to me at all,” Tilly
said quietly. “But my mother wasn’t there when he was born, so the doctor let me hold him. Then there was some sort of complication, and they had to take me into the operating room.”
“Jesus,” he whispered. He looked nauseous at her words.
“Anyway, when I woke up, he was gone.”
“Gone,” Beast repeated, looking from Miles to Tilly and back again. “So… wait… Meg and Kate? How did that happen?”
“Yeah.” Tilly cringed. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Not until… well you heard what Aunt Meg said by the pool. I mean, I suspected. God, he looks so much like you, Beast. But I thought… she couldn’t… she wouldn’t do that…”