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mind that so much.   She’d never been comfortable with the wild parties and the insatiable need for attention that so many of them seemed to possess.   Still, it worried her for Kaitlyn. Hurting as she was, what sort of trouble would she get into?  
    It also worried her for Vincent.
    Justin had left earlier.   Always the quiet one, he’d simply walked out while most of the mourners had still been gathered and hadn’t bothered to return.   He was probably looking at the world somewhere through a camera lens.  
    With both of them gone and Vincent left alone, she couldn’t help but worry.   Alone was the last thing he needed to be.
    At the service, he’d been stoic.   Afterwards, with the guests gathered, he’d been polite, if somewhat aloof.   But she’d seen something in him, and it frightened her for him. She was more attuned to him than she needed to be.   Certainly more so than was good for her.   Her own grief was overwhelming enough, but every time she looked at him, she ached for him and the pain he was going through.   Heading for the study, she knocked softly on the door.  
    “Yes,” he called out.  
    Sliding open the pocket doors, she stepped into the room.
    He stood at the window with his back to her, staring out into the small garden.   He’d discarded his jacket and tie, and the sleeves of his white dress shirt had been turned back.   In his hand, he held a glass of bourbon.
      “I saw Kaitlyn leaving.   I wanted to be sure that you were all right before I left,” she explained.
    Vincent looked angry.   Unsure how to proceed, or even what she should say to him, Ophelia stood there for the longest moment, feeling completely out of her depth.  

     
    ~~****~~
     

     
    The rage inside him was a surprise and the swirl of confusion left him wanting to lash out at anyone and everyone.   He didn’t really understand where it was coming from.   He’d known that Thomas was dying.   There’d been no denying it for months.    
    But lashing out at Ophelia, letting the darkness inside him strike at her was unacceptable.   Not that it mattered.   His rational mind wasn’t really in charge.   Her quiet concern and softly spoken words were like striking a match to gasoline.   “Are you going to console me if I’m not?” he asked sharply.  
    At his remark, she drew herself up, her shoulders pulling back and her chin notching upward. He’d definitely struck a nerve. “This has been a difficult day, Vincent.   I’m sorry for that.   I’ll come by tomorrow to collect anything that I’ve left behind.”
    “Coward,” he said softly, and sipped from his glass, but his gaze stayed locked with hers.   Equal parts challenging and beckoning.  
    He wanted to forget, to think of anything but the emptiness that was burrowing inside him. He glanced at the glass in his hand and knew the bourbon wasn’t cutting it. The burn of liquor was a poor anesthetic, but the heat and passion which flared between them only a short week earlier, would burn up in anything its path, he thought.   He could lose himself in her, just for a while.
    “Fine, yes.   I’m a coward,” she conceded.
    “What if I asked you to stay?   Told you how much I needed you?” The questions were pointed and sarcastic, but they held enough truth to make them both uncomfortable.
    Ophelia’s sigh was heavy and weary, filling the room.   “He wasn’t my family, but I loved him too.   I miss him already.   We’re both hurting, Vincent.”
    He moved towards her, stopping an arm’s length away, giving her an opportunity to retreat if she chose.   “Stay with me.”
    “And what happens tomorrow?”
    “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

     
    ~~****~~
     

     
    Ophelia felt herself slipping.   Whether it was his pain or her own pushing at her, she couldn’t be sure.   She only knew that in that moment, she didn’t want to be alone and she didn’t want to live her life regretting something she