Page 3 of Dearly Departed

“I am so mad at you.” I’m furious, actually, and if I were in a drama from the thirties I might be mad enough to slap Jacob right across the face. But this isn’t a movie, and he looks worn down, his expression bleak, and slapping him wouldn’t make either of us feel any better. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to disappear? I would have gone with you.”

He meets my gaze again, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s not the kind of life I want for you.”

I drop my head back and let out a long, irritated groan. Yes, I’m probably reminding Jacob of the difference in our ages, but the truth of my heart is that I’m frustrated. When I pick my head back up, Jacob is watching me, fresh guilt creasing his forehead.

“Do you know how sick I am of people assuming their plans for my life are better than mine? My parents never even asked me what I wanted. They thought they’d pat me on the head and ship me off to get married to you.”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say well, you sort of did get married to me.

“And yes. That’s what I ended up doing. But I did it my way. Our way. We decided that together. You don’t get to decide what kind of life I’m going to have without even asking, Jacob. That’s not how this marriage is going to go.”

“Kitten, I’m⁠—”

“Do not tell me you’re sorry. I’m not done being angry yet.” My face flames as all the pieces come together. “Faking your death? So your ex-boyfriend could take in a stray widow? That’s even worse than being a fake fiancée.”

“That was never fake,” he says softly.

“Did you mean the vows we took?” He looked so earnest at the altar. Happy. “For richer or poorer? To have and to hold? Remember those?”

“Til death do us part,” says Jacob.

“Til death,” I fire back, my eyes welling. My throat is starting to close up with humiliated emotion, and I can’t right now. There’s a murderer on the plane. “Not til I swan dive into the ocean.”

Jacob shakes his head. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“What was the plan, then? Just never see me again? Was that going to be better for you?”

“It wasn’t you.” Oh, now he has a sense of urgency. “Catherine, believe me. It wasn’t you.”

“It had better not be! I literally fuck you, Jacob. Do you think I would just go around fucking anyone who asked on the street? I wouldn’t! I was in love with you!”

He sucks in a breath like I really did slap him, and I finally realize what hurts so much.

“Was?” he asks.

“You know what?” I wipe at my eyes with the sleeve of the traveling outfit I chose specially for the occasion. It’s a custom lounge set Charlotte made for me in a shade of ivory that matches my dress. “I’m not having a conversation with you about being in love when we’re on a murder plane. Which is, like, barely better than a fake-death plane.”

“Catherine—”

“Ugh. I hate that you say my name like that when you were going to leave me. When you thought it was fine to leave me.” I wipe my eyes again, and again, because they’re crying without my permission and I don’t have time for tears. “It took me forever to come to terms with getting married. I’ve seen way more examples of bad marriages than good ones. So you can make me into a fake widow over my dead body.”

Jacob turns his face away, and for a second, I think I’ve broken him. I think he’s turning away to hide his final heartbreak before we get murdered.

But then his shoulders shake.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he chokes.

“You’re laughing at me! You’re such an asshole.”

“I’m sorry, kitten, I⁠—”

“I can’t believe all those people just watched me get married to you when you’re such a rich, charming asshole. This is the most embarrassing moment of my life. Jacob! This is not funny!”

“I know.” His voice is thin and strained. With laughter.

I slap him on the shoulder. “Get it together. God, you’re the worst. Did you really think this was a good plan? Did you really think this was going to work?”