I pulled a tissue out of my purse and wiped my eyes before finding my way into the main room, where the visitation was being held.
The receiving line was long, and I settled in to wait as friends and acquaintances occasionally came by to give me a hug or a kind word.
Eventually, I made it to Jackie and Meredith, Danny’s sisters. Meredith’s husband, Ollie, was with her, and I hugged them all and passed along my condolences.
Danny pulled me into an embrace before I’d even released his eldest sister.
I stiffened but said quietly, “I’m so sorry about your mom. She was one of my favorite people in the world.”
He didn’t reply, but I felt him swallow several times against my shoulder in an attempt to get his emotions under control.
With quick, efficient movements, I pulled away, unsure how to navigate this weird place with the family that had once been mine. Danny’s eyes were red-rimmed and devastated.
But I moved over to Eldridge and offered what kind words I could. I felt his body shaking against mine, silent sobs wracking his thin frame.
It was difficult to take a step back, to leave these people with their grief, a sadness that I shared too.
I didn’t realize Danny had reached for my hand until he tried to reel me back into his side.
“You should be up here with us,” he said brokenly. “You’re family. You were hers just as much as the rest of us.”
My eyes widened, and I looked helplessly to Danny’s father and siblings. Someone to step in and tell him that wouldn’t be appropriate. But I thought they were all too grief-stricken to manage.
I shook my head, noting the folks gathered around the room starting to take notice and stare. Gently, but firmly, I said, “No, Danny. That wouldn’t be right.” Then I met the gazes of his family members and said one last time, “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Finally, I tugged my fingers free from Danny’s desperate hold and made my way to the exit.
The winter air stung my damp cheeks, and I pulled my black peacoat tighter around my body to ward off the sudden chill.
I wasn’t aware of footsteps behind me until I was nearly to my car. Turning, I found Danny jogging across the parking lot.
“Danny,” I sighed as he came to a stop in front of me, puffs of air leaving his mouth as he caught his breath.
“Just—I’m sorry, Bonnie. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. You and me. We belong together. Since we were kids. I promised my mother I’d fix this.” His face crumpled for a brief moment before he composed himself. “Before she died, I told her I’d get you back. Put things right.”
I closed my eyes, feeling fresh tears escape down my cheeks.
“You can’t really want to throw it all away, Bon,” he added.
My body was trembling. From the cold, from my anger, from bone-deep weariness ... I didn’t know. This wasn’t the time or the place, but I couldn’t let this go on.
So I kept my voice even and said, “No, Danny. I didn’t want to throw it all away, but you did that for us. And you don’t get to take it back now. I’m sorry about your momma. I really am. But stay out of my life.”
Jack
Bonnie was asleep on my sofa when I let myself in just after two in the morning. We’d been busier than normal, and I’d had to help Sebastian and Sasha close.
I knew something was wrong before I’d even taken off my shoes.
She was still wearing her winter coat, her body curved in on itself like she needed protecting. The blanket lay unused over the back of the sofa, despite being within reach. Bonnie’s face was tense, even in sleep, and her mascara had run at some point, flecks of it around her eyes and temples.
Frowning, I sat down near her feet and wrapped my hand gently around her ankle. I kept my voice low so I didn’t startle her and said, “Bonnie.”
She blinked in groggy awareness before focusing on me. Then her face crumpled, and she reached for me.
I scooped her into my arms, drawing her tight against me even as my heart hammered in my chest.
This was it. She was here to break things off. Danny had probably gone to see her, made his play to win her back, and now she’d come to end things. Bonnie was a kind, empathetic person. Of course, she’d be upset at the thought of hurting me. That was the only explanation I had for why she was so out of sorts on a random Tuesday night.
