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He was shaking my hand, but my hand was still shaking.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Oliver.”
Tate’s British accent was so crisp and foreign to me, that I blinked, hardly recognizing him.
That’s the whole point, idiot. Now, get into character.
“Thank you, Ambrose. You’re the only one of Kingsley’s colleagues that showed up.”
Tate let go of my hand and reached up to nervously adjust his tie. “Yes, well, barristers are known to be complete sods, aren’t we?”
I fought back the urge to laugh, despite my sadness. A tear slipped out and I wiped it away.
“True, but I would hardly characterize my husband that way.”
“Kingsley was a very rare man, kind and ethical to a fault,” Tate nodded. “And how are you doing?”
That question brought more tears. “I’ve just lost the love of my life, how do you think?”
Tate grimaced. “Yes, well, I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. As Kingsley probably told you, I’m useless outside of a courtroom. Please do accept my condolences, such as they are, and take care.”
Before I had a chance to say anything else, Tate stalked away.
I glanced at the figure of my husband in the coffin and then back at Tate, holding my stare.
“Cut!” Jared shouted. “And that’s how you do it, folks!”
I startled when one of the makeup artists stepped in front of me to fix my face. The crew went about moving items for the following scene.
The next one was going to be a challenge.
Giving a eulogy, even a fake one, was not an easy task.
Horrible memories flooded my mind, making me feel like I was back in my hometown months ago, about to step up to the mic to talk about my mom.
Almost as if I called out to him, Tate was suddenly beside me. “You all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered as the makeup artist finished with my face and made her leave. “It’s hitting a little close to home, but that’s to be expected, right?”
Tate leaned over and pulled me in for a hug. I couldn’t help but soak up his strength, my face against his shoulder.
Being held in his arms was so fucking good.
So real. And right.
“Um, guys, are we ready to go?” Jared asked.
I didn’t realize we’d drawn an audience. Sure enough, when I backed away from Tate, I looked around to find the crew in their spots, ready to go on to the next scene.
I nodded. “I am, but you’ll need to get wardrobe out here. I got makeup on his suit.”
“You did indeed,” Jared glanced at Tate with a smirk. “Can someone help Tater, please.”
Several crew members began to laugh.
“What have I told you about that nickname?” Tate sighed and pointed at me. “This is your fault, Ree. You started it.”
“So sensitive.” I shook my head, glad for the comic reprieve. Suddenly I was a whole lot lighter. “Tater tot.”
