Raymond’s hands shook, as he tried for all he was worth to hold on to his cup of tea. He shook his head, as frustration took over and he dropped the cup. He stooped and tried to pick the pieces but the tears overwhelmed him. He leaned against the wall, put his head in his hands and cried.
He was still trying to make sense of what Stella had said to him earlier that evening, yet it was very clear. Nadine was dead … and he could not help but blame himself. He hadn’t even gotten to meet her since he arrived in London a week ago, and now the next time he saw her she would be lying in a coffin. He could not help thinking that this was all somehow his fault. It was true that he had not been behind the wheel of the oncoming car, and he was not her evil husband who had so messed up her mind that she had thought she was no use to anyone. And he felt guilty for a reason he did not know. He had not actually killed her, but that knowledge did not make the pain any easier to bear.
He felt worse than he had on the night they had called off their relationship … and prior to now, he hadn’t thought that was possible. If only he hadn’t gone to New York, she would still be alive. He sobbed, unashamed, as he thought about her. She was barely 24. To say he had been shocked to hear of the horrors she had had to pass through at the hands of her husband, was quite possibly the understatement of the year. Make that century. The man had practically killed her.
Standing in his kitchen, Raymond cried till his head ached and he was out of breath, as he mourned the angel he knew he would love forever.