48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Mason

Hospitals had always been a special type of hell for me. They smelled too strongly of bleach, and the floral air freshener used to cover the sterile smells was overwhelming. Despite all that, I marched through the halls with my head held high and a warm hand on my back, doing my best to ignore the beeping of all the monitors from the numerous rooms.

My heart was cold, not because of the knowledge that I was preparing to say goodbye to my father, but at all the lives soon to be lost in these rooms.

I hoped none of them were alone.

Lucian and I kept walking until we came upon a placard with the room number the receptionist promised my dad would be in.

“Are you sure you want to go in alone?” Lucian asked, keeping his voice low.

He was the only one I brought with me. The others wanted to come, but life got in the way. Jasper and Juniper didn’t have passports, so they had to stay home, and while Sophia’s moms would have taken them, it didn’t feel safe to have all the adults so far away from the kids. After Cameron agreed to stay home with the twins, Sophia tore the house apart looking for her passport, only to discover she’d lost it. I had never seen her so frantic, but ultimately, she also had to stay in Maine.

Seb wanted to go too, but he already had a work trip planned. He had his phone in hand, dialing his boss’s number to cancel it when I told him not to bother. His job was more important than a two-day trip to Lyon.

Lucian didn’t seem to mind being the only one here with me, and neither did I. The entire flight over, he reminded me of every reason he hated my dad. But as soon as we landed and settled into the hotel, he showered and slipped into his funeral best. Dressing up that way felt a little preemptive, but I fought the urge to tell him as much. It was hard enough for Lucian to be respectful toward someone he hated as much as my dad.

“I won’t be alone,” I reminded him. “My dad’s in there.”

Plus, the conversation I had with my dad needed to be between us and us alone. I didn’t want to fear judgment for what I had to say, and this was my last chance to get closure—a chance I desperately wished I had before my mom passed.

That’s what I had spent most of the flight thinking about. I didn’t believe in heaven, and even if it existed, neither of my parents were going there. But I hoped somewhere in the great beyond, their souls found each other. In another life, one where my parents learned to control their vices, I’d like to think they would have stayed together.

Lucian smoothed my hair before adjusting the collar of my dress.

“Just remember, I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

A lump formed in my throat as I nodded.

“I love you,” he whispered.

My lips quivered, and a few premature tears escaped, forcing me to look up and take a deep breath.

“Wish me luck.”

Lucian rested his forehead on mine as he held my cheeks. Together, we shared a few last breaths before I turned and entered my dad’s room, sealing the door behind me.

I greeted Dad in French, letting him know I was there. He gave no response, and I felt guilty for the relief that washed over me.

The only light in the room came from the monitors displaying my dad’s vitals, and that simply wouldn’t do. Slowly, I wandered to the windows before pulling on the chain and causing the blinds to rise. The sun filtered in through the bottom, climbing as the curtain did.

The world was bright, and the birds were chirping; unseasonably warm for October, but I guessed it was kind of fitting. My dad hated the summer, fall, and winter, all for various reasons. Today just happened to be one of those weird autumn days that read more as spring than fall, and I was glad his last day was one he would have enjoyed. From my dad’s window, there was a beautiful view of the hospital’s chapel, and I’d like to think he would have enjoyed that too.

Slowly, I turned around, taking in the faded pink wallpaper, counting the speckles in the linoleum, reading the literature on the walls about proper hand-washing... focusing on everything else in the room before my gaze finally landed on my dad.

His shaggy black hair was knotted, and his face was cobbled together with a mixture of gauze and stitches. I did my best not to read any details about the car accident, so all I knew was that it was bad, and my dad had been drunk.

“I begged you for years to get sober,” I whispered, taking the lone chair beside his bed.

I looked at the wooden table, hoping to see flowers or balloons that I had missed, but ultimately found nothing. My dad was a celebrated rockstar, and in his final days, no one wished him well. James Albright inspired the next generation of musicians, but at the end of the day, no one cared that his life was about to end.

No one other than me.

I apologized for not sending flowers as I took his hand. His fingers were cold and hard, but they twitched as I twined them between mine. I gazed up at him, partially expecting to see his brown eyes scowling into mine, but they remained closed.

The only movement was his chest, which rose and hollowed with an artificial breath.

I should have asked the doctors to remove his breathing tube before I came in.

I turned my dad’s hand over in mine, focusing on the rings on his fingers rather than the equipment keeping him ‘alive.’

“I renamed your granddaughter,” I began. “Rosemary… I’m still deciding on a middle name, but I know it won’t be James.”

I swallowed hard, unsure how to tell him I didn’t want her to be an Albright either. I wanted to sever any tie my sweet girl would have to her grandfather.

More tears collected in my eyes as I recounted everything that had happened during my absence. I told him about Lucian, Sophia, Cameron, Sebastian, and the twins. I told him how I was happy, and that none of the clothes I left Lyon with fit me anymore. I knew if he had heard me, he would have hated that last bit, which is why I included it.

After that, I told my dad how much I loved him, but I also explained that I was angry, furious even. It wasn’t fair that I tried for years to earn his love, only for him to do this. I also let him know how upset I was that no one, not even his assistant, brought him flowers during his hospital stay. After this was over, I’d be calling both his assistant and manager to let them know just how disappointed I was in them. My dad had been working with them since before I was born, and they couldn’t even express their condolences.

When I called my manager and let her know everything that happened, she had a bouquet of fruit sent to the house with a card, and I wasn’t even the one who was hurt.

I talked to him until the blue sky turned a brilliant blend of orange and pink before deciding enough was enough. But what else was I supposed to do?

This was the last time I would ever talk to my dad. Once today was over, my pool of blood relatives would be drained. There would be no aunts, uncles, cousins, or grandparents.

Just Mason.

Rosemary kicked, as if to remind me that she was there too. I took my hand from my dad’s, rubbing the spot to quell my daughter. I wanted to make an off-handed comment about how I hoped he’d love his granddaughter in the way he loved me when I was young, but that wouldn’t do me any good. So, instead, I pressed the call button to let the doctor know I was ready, and then I talked some more.

“I wish you had loved me as much as I thought you did. Then we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” My voice quivered, and I cleared my throat, trying to hold myself together. He hated it when I cried.

“You’re a bad person, Dad. Even so, I forgive you.”

I had a long road ahead of me, a lot of therapy visits to undo the damage James Albright inflicted on me, but all the rage I held toward him would do me no good. Plus, he’d be happier if I didn’t forgive him. He liked feeling persecuted, and he liked it when I was angry. That’s why he’d always pick a fight with me before I went on stage.

Forgiving my dad was the biggest ‘ fuck you ’ I could give him.

The room fell silent as the doctor entered and removed everything other than the monitors from my dad. He let me know it might take a minute or two for my dad to fully pass, and I was okay with that.

When we were alone again, I straightened up my dad’s appearance. He always made sure I was photo-ready when I was at my worst, so it was only fair for me to do the same for him.

His wheezy breath warmed my wrist as I pulled back to hold his hand again. This time, I pocketed one of his rings; a silver band with small emeralds circling it. He showed me this ring when I was young, told me my grandfather had passed it down to him. I wanted something to remember him by, and it felt like this should stay in the family.

The rest of his estate would also go to me, but I planned on selling everything and donating all the money to one of the charities he publicly backed. Dad was a monster, but I knew how important appearances were to him. He would have loved to know the public thought of him as a philanthropist—a man with a heart of gold and a wallet to match.

This ring would be my only keepsake. I thumbed the silver, using the cool feeling of the metal to keep myself centered as the door opened once again. I expected it to be a doctor checking in to see if he could get the time of death. Instead, Lucian walked in with a bouquet of purple flowers I couldn’t quite place the name of. Silently, he put them on the bedside table before standing behind me.

“I know you didn’t want me in here, but—”

“Stay,” I pleaded as tears I had been denying finally escaped.

I didn’t have the strength to look back at Lucian, not right now. But, as his arms draped over my shoulders, I was so glad he came in against my wishes. Together, we waited for the beeps of my dad’s heart monitor to fade into one dull note.

Once it did, we sat still a few moments more. Lucian didn’t push me to move, or talk, or even breathe. Instead, he quietly reminded me that Sophia, Sebastian, and Cameron were all waiting for phone calls from us. They wanted to be there for me, to make sure I was okay. I knew it wasn’t realistic for everyone in the house to drop their lives to come to France, but I really wished I had everyone here.

I blinked twice to dispel the remaining tears as I focused on the clock just above my dad’s bed. It was one of the nice digital ones that showed the date and the time.

October twelfth, seven p.m.

I committed the time and date to memory... Not that it would be hard to remember, considering my birthday was tomorrow.

Every moment after this day would be a moment spent living for my daughter and me, making my own choices, and spending time with the family who chose me. Just a few months ago, if you had asked me where my life was going, I would’ve never guessed I’d end up here.

But, sometimes, the best endings are the ones you never expect.