The Thousand Words We Spoke (A Novella)

Chapter Nineteen

Mia could see the back of Adam's head and a slight side profile of his face from the church pew her family sat in. It was only two pews away from him since the families were so close and Mia knew if he so much as muttered a word from where she sat, she'd hear him.

While he'd already said goodbye to her in what they thought was in private, there was still this one day to get through. After the service, they would appear shortly at his mom's house for the wake, stay to hear a story or two, then her mother and her would excuse themselves early to book her a flight back home for the next day.

Her grandparents sat by her side while her father sat next to her mother, but it was all for pretenses at this point. They'd only spoke a few words to each other over the last few days and he'd spoken zero words to her and her to him.

Keith Holloway was not a bitter man or a poor father or husband, he just had no clue how to wrap his head around the situation. Adam had gone from the annoying kid chasing them around demanding to play with him and William to the little brother he'd wanted rather than the sister he got to eventually a friend.

Mia's adoration for him was what had bonded them so much, as ironic as it was, since it was what tore them apart. The two men hadn't been friends until he came over every chance he got to see her. Eventually he was invited to watch Sunday football with him and his brother and a few of their friends, joined them for dinner and the occasional Friday family movie night.

William looked over his shoulder and looked at his goddaughter with the saddest smile she'd ever seen him give her. It was at that moment Mia knew he'd heard all about what happened, either from her father or Adam or maybe heard both sides. There wasn't anger behind his faded blue eyes like her dad, so Adam must have at least gotten a few words in.

It was excruciating not knowing just how far this had all spread. Did Adam's mother know? Did her own grandparents? Was half the room judging them?

Even as the priest spoke the generic words about life and loss, referring to a man he'd never met, Mia remained lost in her own mind.

Years after she kissed Adam Whitman, feeling confident that it was something she needed to do in order to know the truth, it had become her biggest and most painful regret. It told her all the things she never needed to know; things that would have been best hidden for the rest of their days. Although that one kiss would remain the greatest of her life, creating a single memory that would last her a lifetime, it also created a domino effect that fell against her life like an anvil landing on her soul.

Without that kiss, she could have kept Adam in some small way. She could have lived closer to her family, even if not in Chicago, could have spared herself the three most painful moments of her life, could have left Holden untainted, could have prevented Adam from forming a drinking problem, could have stopped her from losing the respect of her father and hearing the cruelest of words from Adam, and all the heart wrenching ones. That kiss of a lifetime was to blame for the lifetime of sadness she'd come to endure.

And she still didn't know the effect it would have on the company the two families shared or the relationships that helped build it.

Mary stood and walked with shaky steps up to the platform, her sniffles and heavy breaths echoing through the room. She stood there like a lost lamb with no clue how to go on living her life without her cherished husband by her side.

When she willed herself to speak, she told the room of the cherished memories shared. Some she'd known about, some she'd borne witness to, while others were new to her. Mia cried at all the memories of the future, ones they would never make.

The couple had plans to travel. In three years Edward was going to retire, allow his son to buy out his shares and see the world with his wife. He'd worked so hard and was looking forward to quieter days, or so she heard. This was the first time Mia had seen Mary in two years and the fact that she hadn't made the time to see the couple she'd considered as a second set of grandparents gutted her.

Then it was Adam who joined her on the platform, holding her hand as he escorted her to William, who helped her down the steps and back to her seat. When his eyes fell on hers, Mia looked away despite her heart telling her to hold firm, to force him to look at what his love and his rejection had done to her.

In Mia's younger days, she was vibrant and a bit of a hell raiser. She had a fire within her. But now? Now she was sitting there, a shell to match his own. She was tired from life and shattered by love and the fire within her was now just smoke and burning embers, desperate to ignite again one day. All this before hitting thirty.

Mia climbed inside herself at the first word he spoke and tuned him out the best she could with her own thoughts about whatever else she could come up with. Just as she couldn't look at him, she couldn't hear him either. It was all too much, especially since the man who stood in front of them all was one hundred percent the man she'd fallen in love with.

When her mother shook her leg, Mia blinked several times before noticing that everyone was standing and moving around. She'd tuned out the whole service without realizing it.

Her mother's eyes were red, but the tears she'd shed had long since dried. "You okay, kiddo?"

She looked to the other side of her at her grandfather, whose tears were still fresh as he grasped his wife for dear life, then returned her attention back to her mother. "I'm fine."

They both knew it was a lie, but the truth didn't need to be spoken aloud for her mother to know.

"Is dad ashamed of me?" Mia was going to ask if her father hated her, but she knew whatever anger he felt would subside. But shame could resonate for far longer. It could fester and break the bridges between the bond of two people.

Her mom tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and, like she'd just done, spoke the truth to her with her eyes.

The answer was 'yes'. She'd brought shame to her father, and to herself.