She sobbed on the other line before cutting the call.
"Giselle?"
Chris stood there for a moment and closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. When he opened his burning eyes, Abby stared at him in horror as if expecting him to collapse any moment. He took a deep breath.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He gulped, shook his head a fraction, and moved forward to let Abby wrap him up in her arms.
He wanted nothing more than to reach out to comfort Giselle, but a part of him wished to stay there in the warmth of Abby's embrace for a while longer so that he didn't have to see Giselle's swollen and questioning eyes, so that he didn't have to see Abbott's lifeless body, and so that he wouldn't have to deal with all of it alone.
"I need to go," he whispered, breaking the hug. She nodded.
They headed out. Chris dropped Abby off at her place and then drove toward the highway that led to Petrichor. He was going to be there for Giselle no matter how much it hurt him to see her breaking.
The prospect of seeing Abbott's corpse weighed him down. The news of his demise had inevitably aged him. There were a million unanswered questions, but he had to hold Giselle first.
He wanted to cry and let it all out as he drove, but he couldn't find the strength. Throughout his drive to Petrichor, all Chris could think of was Abbott's last words to him,"Take care, son..."
Chapter 17
It took Chris ten minutes to finally step out of his car and head toward Giselle's house. The last thing he wanted was to stammer under the weight of the grief he felt, so he'd taken the time to calm himself and gather the strength to face her.
On his way inside, he passed the housekeeper, Mrs. Whitman. She recognized him from the years she'd spent in Phoenix and smiled apologetically, her eyes brimming with tears. He looked at her for a moment longer, and she shook her head slightly to let him know that Giselle wasn't okay.
He'd expected it. Taking a deep breath, he entered the house. He'd never been there before but he'd seen enough pictures and heard enough stories from Giselle to know his way around. He walked toward her room, deliberately prolonging the moment by dragging his feet.
The door was half-open, and he could hear voices from inside the room. He stood there, taking another deep breath, listening to them, and wondered whether he could delay facing her for a few more minutes.
"I'm not hungry," he heard Giselle say, her voice heavy. He wondered if she'd eaten anything since she found out about Abbott.
A man who could only be Xavier, he assumed, said, "I made it because I wanted to show you what a good cook I can be."
Chris, despite the distaste he felt for the man inside that room, felt a rush of gratitude toward him for trying to make her smile.
"Where's his body?" she asked him.
"It's in the morgue. I told you."
"Is Chris here, yet?" she asked.
He closed his eyes, his heart hammering. She needed him.
"Talk to me..." said Xavier, his voice low.
"What's there to talk about?"
"Anything. Talk about anything you want."
It took her a moment to speak. "I just..." She sighed. "What do I do...?"
There was a pause. "Choose happiness."
It was too soon to force her to see the positive, Chris thought, but he felt grateful, nonetheless.
"Happiness?" Her voice raised. "My life is over, Xavier! My father is dead! Do you understand what's going on? I have no one to live for!"
Chris opened the door and said, "You have me."