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Scrubbing a hand over my face, I glanced at Preston. He still stared, unmoving, clearly not caring I’d somehow maybe stolen half his inheritance. “I don’t want it,” I claimed, my voice shaky. “Everything should go to Preston.”
“Jacqueline Casswell thought otherwise, and that’s all that matters when it comes to her legal will,” Mr. Agosti stated firmly, not leaving room for me to argue.
Curses slid through my mind. I didn’t desire anything from her.
Not a goddamned thing except for her son to come back to me.
“Mr. Barone and I were still in Greece at the time of their deaths, so as Ms. Casswell’s estate planner and executor, Mr. Barone brought their more personal items to the States.” He motioned toward the box Mr. Barone had left in the entryway. “Their bodies have been cremated as requested in her will, and I promise we’ll make sure their remains are home soon.”
Jesus Christ, what a mess.
“We will be transferring ownership of her assets, settling both U.S. and overseas accounts, and tying up other loose ends in the coming weeks,” Mr. Barone said, his voice softer than his partner’s. “If you have any questions about the process, please don’t hesitate to call either me or Mr. Agosti.”
I accepted the card he held out, nodding, my thoughts crowded.
Both men stood.
“I changed my name.” My love spoke for the first time in days, his voice ragged. “I’m a Gibbons now.”
“You are still Jacqueline’s son,” Mr. Agosti said, less abrupt than he’d been while reading her will. “The surname does not matter.”
A heavy exhale sank Preston deeper into his chair.
I kissed his temple and stood, knowing he wouldn’t be seeing the lawyers out. I thanked the two men and sent them on their way before returning to the dining room.
Needing to be comfortable and closer to Preston, I gathered him up in my arms and held onto his limp form while stumbling into the living room.
I settled onto the couch, tucking Preston’s face against me where he used to feel comforted. “I’m so fucking sorry, Preston. I’ll give it all to you. It’s not mine—I don’t want anything from her.”
He whispered something, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“What did you say, baby?” I soothed a hand over his hair and down his back, wishing I could coax everything from his lips and heart.
“It’s my fault.” The first hints of grief sounded in his quiet declaration.
The fuck?
I frowned, pulling Preston from my chest so I could see his face.
Pale and lower lip trembling, he wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“Give me your eyes,” I begged.
He lifted emerald orbs glowing from unshed tears—fucking finally.
My breath left in a rush as I grasped his face in my hands. “Why would you think that, Preston? It was an accident. The Greek authorities determined it was.”
Preston swallowed hard, the tears spilling over. “I—I wished her a-away. L-Lots of t-times.” He bit on his lower lip to keep a sob from escaping.
“Baby.” Throat tight, I pulled him back against me, squeezed the life out of him. “No—it’s not your fault, Preston.”
“I hadn’t r-really meant it,” he cried, clutching at my shirt and curling in on himself atop my lap.
Goddamnit.
I stared at the ceiling as tears welled in my eyes. “You’re not responsible in any way for their deaths,” I managed to croak the words while wishing I could rip away the guilt he admitted to so he wouldn’t have to suffer.
“I’m s-so sorry.” Preston shuddered and sobbed.
