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My grandmother is dead.
The only person who ever really took care of me, who ever really loved me, who ever really saw me for who I was—she’s gone. And maybe she was gone long before this, but there’s a difference—there’s such a fucking difference—between having someone be alive and having someone be dead.
Lisbeth goes on to tell me more things, how she was fine yesterday and how she died in her sleep and it was peaceful, but I can’t take them in. They hit me and dissolve because I’ve already been shattered from the inside out.
I put the phone down. I’m not sure what I said to her, if anything, not even sure if I’ve hung up the phone, but I turn around, about to collapse from the sheer weight of infinity, of gone forever, and feel myself in Magnus’s arms.
He holds me for a moment, a strong and powerful grip, and tells me that they’ve got me. Not him but they, and then I find myself being passed on and I’m in James’s arms now. I let out a choked sob and wrap my arms around him, holding on tight, so tight, as it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my throat.
“Laila love,” James whispers as he cradles me against him, kissing the top of my head. “I’m so sorry.”
I cry, sob, bawl.
And he holds me. He doesn’t tell me it will be okay, because he knows it won’t be.
But he holds me just the same.
•••
My grandmother’s funeral is being held in Todalen. Other than Lisbeth and me, she knew no one in Oslo, with all her friends, old neighbors, and her nephew Peter up in the village.
So Magnus gave me the week off of work to try to make the funeral arrangements. I don’t even know how I did it. I’ve been so overcome with grief that my brain’s operating power has turned to a crawl. One moment I can push through like normal, and in the next I’m hit, going down, like a sledgehammer to the heart.
Somehow, though, with help from Lady Jane and Ottar, I managed to get her casket up there, the funeral being held tomorrow at the local cemetery.
Magnus and Ella wanted to attend the funeral with me. They said I’m like their family, and that my family is part of their family. But I didn’t want that. It would attract too much fuss. My grandmother was a simple woman, and she hated attention. She wasn’t particularly fond of the Norwegian royalty either, calling it all pomp and circumstance. So as much as I really appreciate that they wanted to come pay their respects, I know a media circus in that small village is the last thing anyone would want. Pretty sure Helge would haunt me if I did that.
So it’s just me. Luckily I’m going up by private jet, so I don’t have to deal with driving and the train (it’s about an eight-hour train ride from Oslo to Trondheim, then a few hours’ drive to the village from there). Perks of working for royalty.
I have my bag all packed, ready to go, Olaf waiting outside for me.
I say goodbye to Magnus and Ottar in the foyer (Ella, Lady Jane, and the boys are at the palace in Oslo with the king and queen), a somber affair.
And then James appears.
A duffel bag over his shoulder.
I blink at him, confused. I was hoping he’d see me off since he’s been such a support this last week, but I wasn’t sure where he was. Now he’s here, with a packed bag.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“I’m going with you,” he says to me.
I stare at him, mouth agape. Then I close it and look at Magnus, raising my brows. “Did you know about this?”
He nods. “I did. James asked. Said you probably needed protection, as well as the support of a friend.”
I look at James at the mention of friend, wondering if that’s what he truly is to me. But all I can feel is gratitude. I know I should tell James not to come, that I can handle it, that I’ll be fine.
But the truth is, I feel relief. Relief that I don’t have to go through this alone.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Okay,” I say softly.
James gives me a quick smile. “Come on, love. Let’s get going.”
He takes my bag from me and strides toward the doors.
I look back to Magnus and Ottar as if to say, You sure this is okay?
