Page 61 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

She didn’t like the idea that they were technically walking above dead people. Even if the dead people were special enough to be buried inside, and under, the church. Walking through a graveyard made her uncomfortable enough without adding the extra religion, and a few hundred people who regularly attended the church’s services on top of the rest like a cherry on a warped sundae.

“Not really the best time for this, is it?” Vera asked her friend when Kiril finally went back to pretending like he was flipping through the Old Testament. He did continue to glance her way every few pages, however.

His message was clear.

Knock it off.

“Yeah, let’s not get the puppy barking,” Hannah joked.

Loud enough for Kiril to hear. He guffawed back with a middle finger tossed her way, but silently. The two had just enough class, but barely, not to do it right back. And only because the old woman shot them another glaring look over her shoulder.

Vera couldn’t tell if the service was almost over or not because neither she nor Hannah had bothered with grabbing one of the programs coming in through the doors. Finding a seat as quickly as possible in the very back had been more important.

Hannah and Vera weren’t supposed to draw attention. The only rule of the day the two were expected to follow regarding Viktor’s funeral. Not that Hannah was pleased to agree to any rules when she didn’t know who was making them ... so to speak.

Or that’s how Hannah explained it earlier that morning when Kiril opened the passenger door of his car and delivered the expectations of the day: It’ll be a large service, we’re not trying to be looked at, got it?

“It’s weird,” Hannah muttered.

“What is?”

“A few things, but first, how I feel,” her friend said under her breath. Hannah’s gaze swept toward Vera behind the black lace covering the upper half of her face, and she tipped her matching floppy brimmed hat in her direction.

The black hats and birdcage veils had been a gift that showed up on Vera’s doorstep the night before. Hand delivered by a woman who explained she worked at a specialty boutique in the fashion district, and had received a last-minute call for a very specific order.

Even though Vera fully suspected the morbidly thoughtful gift had come from Vaslav, and he confirmed it when she made a call to him after Hannah went to bed, it made more sense in the morning. Well, after Kiril explained the rule.

“I really thought I was going to feel different about today than I do,” Hannah admitted, peering out into the aisle and down the pews. Quickly, she fell back into her seat and out of anyone else’s view that might be looking. “I don’t feel much at all, I guess. I’m numb.”

“Except maybe happy for his new wife,” Vera said.

She didn’t hide the bite in her tone, either.

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Of course, with a funeral that featured well over a few hundred guests scattered amongst a sea of cold, wooden pews ... staying out of the way was a simple task. With the sweeping, heavy curtains framing the balconies overhead, she couldn’t even see if there were more people than she initially estimated. In the end, Hannah really hadn’t minded being told to stay out of sight. It was Vera’s sudden need to be discreet about certain aspects of her life that caused her friend to pick and prod every chance she could.

Vera did well to deflect and excuse her private phone calls and the new, annoying and bossy roommate that came and went from the villa at all hours, but Hannah hadn’t let it go on more than a couple of days before she had enough. Vera respected that her friend at least tried to mind her business.

Even if it wasn’t for long.

“But more importantly,” Hannah said, then, drawing Vera’s attention away from the service, “it’s weird that my best friend goes out and gets engaged without telling me she did as much to a man she won’t even talk to me about. Yeah, that’s weird.”

Her gaze widened on the last word, and then Hannah nodded to add extra emphasis to her point. As if Vera didn’t already understand.

“But is now the right time for us to talk about it?” Vera asked again. “Or, no?”

The funeral spoke for itself.

“Why not?” Hannah asked. “What’s it matter if it’s now or not? The bastard’s where he should be ... dead.”

“For somebody who’s apparently numb about all this, those are very wet tears,” Vera pointed out.

Not unkindly.

Hannah was quick to wipe them away. “I’m glad he’s gone.”

“Yeah, I know, babe.”