My grandmother was ninety two when she died. I got the call at three in the afternoon. I sat on the couch, staring out the window through eyes blurry with tears. I couldn't fully process the news; not yet.

I didn't turn to look at Trevor as the front door opened and shut. "Babe?" He sounded worried. Usually, I greeted him with an enthusiastic smile and a kiss.

"Grammy died," I mumbled, tears stinging my eyes.

I heard the zipper on his jacket clink as he dropped it on the table, and he knelt down on the floor in front of my seat on the couch. He reached for my hands, and pressed a kiss against my knuckles. "When?"

"A few hours ago," I sniffed. "My mom just called and told me."

He looked up at me with eyes full of sorrow and concern. "What can I do to help?"

I shrugged, staring down at my lap. "There's nothing you can do."

He slid between me and the arm of the couch, wrapping his arms completely around me. He tugged at my legs, pulling them up onto his lap so that they hung across him. I dropped my head against his shoulder, and he rubbed my back slowly.

"I wanted to be there at the end," I cried, "I knew she was sick, but I thought she had longer. I feel so guilty."

"Don' blame yourself, babe. You had no way of knowing."

"What if she thought I didn't love her enough to be there?" I buried my face in his shoulder, soaking his flannel shirt with my tears. He didn't seem to care.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said softly, "She knew how much you loved her. It was clear."

"How do you know?"

"Because," he began, "Everyone can see how much you love the people in your life. Hell, I'm an idiot and I can tell. For some ungodly reason, you love me, and you make it very clear. Trust me, Tara; she knew."

I looked at him with sad eyes. How did he always know what to say? I dissolved into tears, and he held my head in his hands, pressing soft kisses all over my face.

"Do you want some tea?" He asked. I paused for a moment, and then nodded.

I wiped the tears away from my face with my shirt sleeve, and twisted my body around on the couch to watch Trevor in the kitchen as he prepared a cup of tea for me. He was so good to me.

"Thank you," I murmured, taking the mug out of his hands as he returned to me. He reclaimed his seat next to me and watched me take a tentative sip of tea, testing the temperature of it. "I have to fly out to Los Santos tomorrow night. The funeral is on Saturday."

"I?" He echoed. "We."

"Are you sure? You hate the city."

"I'm coming with you," he insisted, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my face with a few fingers.

I yawned and reached towards the coffee table to grab my laptop. "I need to find a cheap flight for us, then."

"No," Trevor argued, "You need to take a nap. You look exhausted. I'll book the flight. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

He pulled my blanket up around my shoulders and took my laptop out of my hands. I laid my head against him as he pulled the lever on the side of the sofa to recline the seat.

"Go to sleep," he whispered, craning his neck to kiss me on the forehead.

"I love you," I murmured.

"I love you more."