Page 62 of True Blue

My smile comes easier this time.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I love you too, Teddy.”

And I let it go, reminding myself that Teddy is grieving. I shouldn’t be badgering him with questions about the past now, even if I’m feeling insecure.

We should be focusing on the future.

Ellie would want us to do that.

“I miss her so much,” I whisper, closing my eyes, wishing I could hear her voice.

Teddy’s eyes widen.

“Fuck. Oh, I’m a shit. God, I’m so sorry,” Teddy sighs, pressing kisses to my head. “I’ve been so up my own ass with my own grief, I haven’t even checked with you.”

“No, it’s okay, she was your Nana,” I shake my head, dismissively.

“But she loved you, Indie,” Teddy says, and I hear his breath shudder. I burrow deeper into his arms.

“The way she talked about you… like you were the missing piece of our family. Before I even met you, when she’d bring you up at dinner, I’d get this feeling right here.”

He presses a hand over his heart.

“This warmth I couldn’t figure out until I actually met you. It’s like she carried your warmth around with her.”

My throat clogs again, my nose stinging, but no new tears come.

“I loved her,” I say. Then I correct myself, "Love her. Love doesn’t disappear because someone’s gone; you just have nowhere to put it.”

I look back up at Teddy, and moonlight spills through the window, illuminating his face and giving me a glimpse of the tears in his eyes.

“I just hate how she died,” he says, his voice cracking. “On the floor⁠—”

“She was dead before we got her to the floor,” I tell him, softly, but plainly.

Relief softens his face, his eyes closing as he takes a long, easier breath.

“For how long?” he whispers.

I shrug. “I think a couple of hours. She died in this comfortable bed. Wrapped in her blankets. She died with dignity, Teddy. We should all be so lucky.”

Teddy stares at me for a long moment before his eyes pool with more unshed tears.

"I miss her. I miss her so damn much. I hate thinking about the world without her. Just picturing it hurts. Remembering her that night—how she was, cold and stiff and... not Nana." His voice breaks. "She died right here. I just... I don't know if she was scared."

“I don’t think she was afraid, Teddy bear,” I say, more fiercely than before, my hand cupping his cheek, thumb chasing away his tears. I want him to feel my certainty, to know it in his bones. “She was ready.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice small and hopeful.

“I think she wanted to go to your Pop,” I say, nodding a little, my thumb stroking the skin above his beard.

The corner of his mouth quirks. “You really believe that?”

“I choose to believe it,” I say softly. “If… if it were me, eleven years without you would be too much.”

He looks at me for a long moment at that. Then he lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh and leans down to kiss me.

“Where you go, I go,” he murmurs against my mouth.