Sunshine || l.h. {complete}

Forty-Two

yes I know I'm awful but I wrote a sad and cute chapter to make up for it but you might actually think I'm a little more awful after you read this

don't mind the rambling ❤️

To say dinner is a disaster would be an understatement.

Of course it starts off perfectly cordial, as most disasters often do. The family passes around the plates and bowls and platters of food, scooping what they want and passing along what they don't. For the first small bit, conversation is not even in the question as everyone stuffs their faces full of meat and potatoes and vegetables.

As an offhanded thought, Belle wonders if Luke has ever seen so much homemade food in his life.

"Well, that was delicious," an uncle Luke can't remember pipes up. He smiles and pats one of the grandparents' hands. The grandmother Luke remembers winking at Belle earlier nods, "Why don't we have chocolate cake?"

She stands, and Luke can feel the tension in the room rise. It's like he's sitting in a teapot on a stove. Belle is shrinking away from him, crossing her legs and tucking her hands between her thighs. He couldn't meet her gaze without being painfully obvious.

"I made it with real sugar this year," Belle's grandmother says from across the kitchen as she unlocks the cake tupperware. She smiles in a way that is reminiscent of days past and it is warm and inviting like the cake she's unboxing.

Even so, Luke swears the room is about to burst before the woman says her next sentence.

"Aiden always liked it better when I didn't use Splenda."

Luke doesn't miss the immediate tear that falls and darkens Belle's pants. He bites into his lower lip and wants to wrap her up in his arms and take her away.

"Aiden isn't here," Angel spits, "We all have Belle to thank for that."

For a moment, Luke wonders if she thinks she was being funny. Without thinking, his hand drifts to her thigh. Belle pulls away from him like his touch is a flame. She's already been burned.

"That's not how I meant it," her grandmother speaks forcefully. "Is no one allowed to remember things about him just because he isn't here anymore?"

It might make it easier if Belle's parents were giving her soft, apologetic looks, or even standing up for their daughter. Luke knows how it is to have your entire family against you for something terrible.

"He isn't here," Belle's tone is biting. "And that seems to be the only thing anyone can remember."

Everyone is surprised that she speaks up, but it only manages to turn the tension up even further. Her mother's grip on the table has turned white, the makeup on her face being the only thing to give her skin any color.

"No, seriously," Belle shrugs, almost nonchalantly. She swallows and Luke sees the steady streams of tears trickling down like a miniature waterfall. "It's all any of you can remember. You don't remember that his favorite color was purple or that he loved dogs. You don't remember how he looked when he laughed, or how he hated me stealing his video game controllers."

She swipes at her cheeks to rid them of the wetness, "But that's fine. You remember his empty chair at the table, but I'm choosing to remember when he was still sitting in it."

And with that, she stands up and walks through the kitchen to deposit a kiss on her grandmother's cheek before stepping outside.

Luke looks around at the table of family and wonders how they can all continue to blame Belle even years later for an accident. His teeth grind together and he wrings his hands against one another underneath the tabletop. From the kitchen, Belle's grandmother waves the knife at the table full of relatives.