“It’s almost too beautiful to look at.”
The words hang in the air between us. I try to respond, I do, but whatever I might have said gets tangled somewhere between grief and something far more dangerous, so I just stand there, and Collins breaks the silence.
“Come on,” he says, already turning away. “I’ll drive you over.” He heads toward his truck, scooping his hand through the air behind him in a quiet gesture for me to follow, and of course…I do.
Everything is lovely.
As lovely as a funeral home can be, I suppose.
The room is filled with blooms of every shape, size, and color. Roses, lilies, hydrangeas—arrangements spilling over polished tables and lining the walls. Their perfume hangs heavy in the air, giving the room a thick floral sweetness that almost masks the quiet weight of grief. The lighting is dim, soft and warm, and a fire crackles in the stone fireplace in the corner, the sound of it snapping and popping making the day feel marginally more bearable.
People come and go. Collins never leaves my side. Neither does Bea. Campbell and Crandall have been here the entire time, standing nearby like silent pillars of support. I haven’t missed the way Bea and Campbell seem to orbit each other, rarely drifting far apart. Lou and Billy are here, too. People I haven’tseen in years. There’s old classmates, familiar faces from high school, neighbors who watched me grow up.
So many people show up to pay their respects, and somehow, seeing them here, hearing their quiet stories about Nan—the way she helped them, made them laugh, scolded them like family—it does something unexpected to my heart.
It doesn’t fix the ache. But it softens it. At least a little.
Since there was no service, when it’s time for everything to come to an end, the funeral home director makes his way to the front of the room, saying some kind words and thanking everyone for coming. The soft music playing through the speakers becomes louder as he takes his place by the exit.
“Are you okay?” Collins places a hand on my lower back, sending that familiar current straight to my heart.
“I’m actually good.”And I am.“I think I’m just relieved this part is over and I feel more at peace than I have since she died.”
I start to step toward him, arms outstretched to wrap around his waist, and that’s when I hear it. The soft melody echoing throughout this space transitions into the prelude of “Whiskey River,” and I don’t know if I’m crying happy or sad tears, probably both, as my face smashes into Collins chest, his arms coming around my shoulders.
“Is this your doing?” I ask into his sweater.
“She made us promise to play it at her funeral.”
All I can manage to do is laugh as Willie sings about numbing memories with a drink.
I look up and Collins has tears in his eyes, but he’s laughing, too.
When I spot the first tear run down his cheek, I take a deep breath, suddenly somber.
He does the same. Our eyes are locked on each other, and I swear the whole world—my whole world—reflects in his.
Collins moves his hands, brushing fingertips across my forehead and sliding them into my hair.
The way he’s looking at me is like we’re standing at the edge of something life altering.
He moves closer, until the world narrows to an inch between us, leaving no room for breathing. I know, because everything in my lungs deflates.
It’s replenished, though, the moment his lips land on mine.
The world stops spinning and we’re the only two souls present. All the background noise goes silent. There’s nothing erotic about this kiss, but it’s like everything that’s been lacking in my life immediately starts feeling abundant again.
He breaks the kiss, and it’s probably a good thing because I’m fairly certain I could have remained that way until the end of time. I keep my eyes closed as one of his hands lands back around my shoulders and the other presses my cheek into his chest. He kisses my forehead, and when I open my eyes the first thing I notice are the twins and Bea staring at me, Bea with wet eyes and a tight-lipped smile.
We ignore any lingering glances and head out to the parking lot hand in hand, like no time has ever separated us. The cool breeze blows the hair off my shoulders, and as leaves scratch the ground around us, I swear I hear a whisper. And it sounds an awful lot like Nan.
Open the envelope.
CHAPTER 22
collins
THEN
