Page 109 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

I know in a heartbeat that I’d do it, though. For Oliver. And if Simon and Charlie had something similar together, I’m surprised it survived my grandparents’ marriage.

And then there’s Eleanor. What must it have been like for her, knowing that her husband was in love with someone else? It’s just a heartbreaking situation all around.

“I don’t know what to say,” I offer. “I’m so sorry.” Because, at the end of the day, Simon’s lost the love of his life. A man who I’ve just now realized loved him back, wholly and completely.

Simon’s eyes are misty. “I got everything I ever wanted. I have no right to complain.”

I rather think he does, all things considered, starting with the social injustice that necessitated his decades-long love affair be clandestine, but I just reach for his hand.

“I’m so happy to know the truth.”

Simon looks like he wants to say something else, but his gaze is drawn, as if by a magnet, to the photo of my grandfather. “He would be glad for you to know.”

I’m scrambling to retain my dignity, but it’s a losing battle. I’m about to start ugly crying, right here in the middle of Simon’s room.

Fortunately, Oliver sees the distress written all over my face. “Say, Ivy,” he intones apologetically, “we should probably get going. I need to pick up a prescription for my father.”

I’m not sure Simon’s under any illusions about the true reason for our abrupt departure, but he handles the announcement with grace. “It was lovely to see you both.” He turns his wheelchair and heads for the door. “I really meant it, you know.” He puts his hand on mine as I pass him. “Charlie and Eleanor’s family is my family. I’m always here if you need me, Ivy.”

The tears fall then, despite my best intentions. I know it’s not the same, but, just for a moment, it’s almost like having my grandparents back.

“Thank you,” I murmur, stooping to give Simon a hug. “I’m so grateful for the opportunity to know you, Simon.”

He raises moist lashes and soothes me with a smile. “Your grandparents would be incredibly proud of you.”

I nod through tears, unsure how to respond without unleashing further waterworks. “I’ll visit again soon, okay?”

“Absolutely,” Simon agrees.

Oliver sticks out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Simon.”

“Likewise. Take good care of each other, you two. What you have doesn’t come along every day.”

Oliver squeezes my shoulder. “It certainly doesn’t.”

The ride back from Wells is quiet. Oliver reaches for my hand at a traffic light. “I really need to start carrying some staff pick notecards so I can get your two cents wherever we go.”

I shoot him a wry smile. “You always know just what to say.”

He returns my expression. “I am a poet, after all.”

The light turns green, and I shift my hand to his knee so he can 10-and-2 the steering wheel. “I wasn’t expecting today,” I say finally.

“Neither was I.”

“It does make a lot of sense, though. When you think about it.”

He nods slowly. “I suppose it does.”

“Right? Like why would Simon just sit there and pine for 60 years if my grandfather wasn’t actually interested?”

I watch Oliver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m not sure you can necessarily just turn that off. That’s why they call it ‘falling’ in love—it’s out of your control.”

“Poet indeed,” I hum.

Oliver grins. “What can I say? I like to impress you with lofty talk.”

“Of that I’ve no doubt.” I squeeze his leg tightly, willing the gesture to convey the depths of my affection. “So, do you actually have to pick up a prescription for your dad?”