Then

CC was a woman for whom repression came naturally. Perhaps it had become something of an evolutionary requirement for those of noble birth, as she never needed to be taught it by her parents. She remembered, fleetingly, feeling a powerful surge of grief and anxiety as her mother had walked out of the front door after a prolonged visit when she was four; by the time she had turned to face her father, the feeling had been squashed down and CC had requested a snack.

But this, this, was something she didn't know how to push down. It seemed so much bigger than her, looming over her head, ready to drop itself upon her and crush the life force out of her. This was more than repression, more than denial; four times today, she had stood and started to walk out of the office, ready to tell Sara something—only to remember she couldn't.

CC knew that death was not something that could truly be qualified or evaluated: a loss was a loss, and each loss was irretrievable and irrevocable. But surely, surely, there was something worse about a sudden death? If there had been a warning, an illness, a hint, anything, she might have found herself able to wrap her head around it.

But there was nothing but the huge, searing truth, rumbling towards them like a bowling ball, striking them and toppling everyone over.

She knew her grief couldn't possibly match that of Maxwell's or the children's. She had no idea how to talk to any of them; she could barely look them in the eye. The sight of tiny Grace walking unsteadily around the house, peering hopefully around corners, expecting to see her mother pop out and cry "Peekaboo!" was heartbreaking.

But still, she had lost a best friend. Likely her only true friend. She'd known her through society throughout high school and then improbably met her again in college—Bryn Mawr was not the likeliest choice among their set when the Ivies beckoned so fetchingly. But the two had hit it off immediately in a way CC never had with another; Sara's soft, warm nature buffered CC's harshness, and yet she'd helped bolster Sara's confidence and encouraged her to become more outspoken.

Then, the summer before senior year, Sara had taken summer courses in Oxford and met Maxwell. CC had momentarily worried that Sara would uproot her life and take off for Britain after graduation, but then she'd learned of Maxwell's intentions to start a Broadway production company.

These memories, so seldom dwelled upon, kept smacking CC in the face. She'd relived her friendship with Sara a thousand times in the past four days, remembering how it had transformed throughout the years as she'd watched Sara grow from a single girl to a married woman and finally to a mother. Their friendship had still thrived and they were just as close as they'd always been—though CC was forced to acknowledge the lack of development in her own life when compared with Sara's.

The funeral had been unbearable. Maxwell was a mess, unable to speak to anyone or acknowledge his children. Sara's family clung to each other as though they were on a life raft. The hundreds of people who had turned up to celebrate Sara's life and mourn her death mirrored the shock that had coursed throughout CC lately. And then there was Niles.

CC had felt a surprising urge to melt into him and gather some of the comfort he was trying to lavish upon the children. He had spared none for her and though she did not begrudge him this, though she knew that the children's needs were a thousand times more than her own, she still felt herself waiting for him to approach her.

It was then that CC unconsciously acknowledged that she had thought whatever she had with Niles was more than just sex. Not quite a romantic relationship, but more than the physical acts they performed together. But CC wondered, if his attention had never even landed fleetingly upon her during this time, what the nature of it was, exactly…

Whenever her mind managed to move away from Sara, and she thought about Niles and felt a little angry with him for ignoring her, CC felt absolutely disgusted with herself. Her best friend had died and she was waiting for a man to notice her? What was wrong with her?

In her confusion of grief, it never occurred to CC to be easier on herself, to be more forgiving towards Niles, to acknowledge that everything she felt might just be normal and not a sign that she was a terrible person. All she felt was an unspeakable chasm inside her where Sara had previously been and utter bile for herself and her stupid, stupid feelings.

After the funeral, she had been shunted into one of the cars headed for the Sheffield mansion. Sara's mother sat beside her and held her hand; she kept muttering things to CC like "always such a good friend" and "spoke about you so often" and only succeeded in making CC feel more horrible. For beyond her trysts with Niles and her terrible inner world, CC had an awful secret that she didn't want anyone to know.

She hadn't cried. At first, she had attributed this to shock; as the shock had molded into a throbbing pain in her gut, the tears hadn't come. When they had lowered the casket into the ground, she hadn't cried even while everyone sobbed around her.

Her best friend was dead, and CC hadn't shed a tear.

Disgust and revile mingled with guilt as CC felt the emotions swirl through her stomach like vomit. She felt horrible, awful, unworthy. She even found herself questioning why Sara had gone—why a woman whose life was so full, with a husband and three children and a loving extended family—and why she, CC, was alive. The universe couldn't be this impartial, things had to matter, things had to be taken into account: CC had no one, had nothing in her life but a job. Surely she should have gone instead.

So CC stood in the corner while the Sheffields mingled with Sara's parents and a smattering of friends who had come to grieve. Niles moved around the room somberly, refilling drinks and replenishing the food. CC wanted to shout at him, to demand answers to all of her questions about why Sara was gone and she remained behind, to scream at him to hold her and wake her up from this awful nightmare, to demand that she leave this private outpouring of grief to which she did not belong since she had not displayed any…

The children left for their rooms first but CC knew, in the way that they all held hands as they ascended the staircase, that they would sleep in the same bed that night. Niles showed the rest of the people into the number of guest rooms available and finally returned to the living room to escort and nearly carry Max up the stairs to deposit him in his room.

She stood alone in the living room and knew she should leave, yet she could not force her feet to move. The idea of her empty penthouse seemed as painful as standing in this dark corner of the living room but at least here she would not be alone.

It was so long until Niles returned that CC had assumed that he had gone to bed. She was wondering if she'd be able to tell which guest rooms were empty or whether she ought to just sleep on the couch when his steps echoed through the empty space. He walked over to her, his suit rumpled and his shoulders slumping, and he looked at her with such sadness in his eyes that CC burst into tears.

For the first time since she was six and had broken her wrist after Noel had pushed her off the slide, CC cried in front of another person. She cried deep, heavy sobs, pausing only to take raspy, ineffective breaths, the grief finally crashing over her and preventing anything other than deep pain from smashing around her. He took her into his arms and she dug her fingers into his shoulders; nonsense words escaped from her mouth and muffled in his suit coat. When she felt his own warm tears splashing on her neck, she threw herself into more paroxysms of grief, crying for Sara and Niles and Maxwell and the poor children and for herself.

When her sobs had quieted slightly, CC saw the blurred outlines of Niles's room and wondered when he had led her here. Niles still held her tightly until he reached down and brought her face up to his; their grieving had left their faces raw and wet, their eyes burning and red, and the helplessness that CC now realized they'd both felt in the past several days emanated from them in waves.

Niles pulled her towards him and kissed her lips softly; there was nothing but comfort in this kiss and CC returned it to him. They broke apart seconds later and rested their tear-stained cheeks against each other, their arms still wrapped around each other. Eventually, still wordlessly, they broke apart and Niles opened his drawer, drawing out a clean white t-shirt that she could sleep in. She changed into it while he pulled on his pajamas; moments later, they climbed under the sheets and fell asleep, still in a loose embrace.