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“Yes. He was concerned. He doesn’t want her on her feet.” My sister had never been fragile like crystal.
“I’ll be up late with Paul. I’ll see you at breakfast before the service.”
She began to leave but spun on her heels. “We will ride to the church together as a family. You understand?”
“Yes.” I slid my hands in my pockets.
“Good night, son.”
“Good night.”
The attendants continued to work around me. Once the vacuum stopped humming, I had to leave. I was the last one inside. I was struck by how quiet it was. Without the people crying. Without people scurrying to fetch coffee and more boxes of tissues. Somewhere in this building was my father’s body. Cold. Lifeless. Alone.
The rain started slowly at first. One giant splatter followed by another. I watched it splash on the sidewalk. One. Two. Three. Throwing water. Making small wakes. I knew I couldn’t observe time pass this way. The gutters began to fill, and the downpour began. I had to get to my meeting.
But the rain made my soul feel heavy. It made everything feel darker and more desperate. My life in Paris seemed so far away. Yet, the one in New Orleans was just as distant.
It kept falling harder. I pushed the door open, following the line of the sidewalk when I noticed where the sidewalk met the pavement.
One high heel stepped onto the curb. A slender ankle bound by a strappy lace that tied at mid-calf. My eyes traveled along her leg, dragging along toned muscle. Skin that I had memorized. Tasted. Touched. Her dress was swept to the side, gathered to keep the fabric from being soaked in puddles.
My eyes continued to roam, but I wondered if there was a way to make them stop. To stop myself from what I knew was at the end. To stop the inevitable. To stop the way the blood pounded in my veins.
“Kennedy,” I muttered under my breath. She was somehow ethereal even in the darkness. Her movements airy. Graceful. Fuck. I had forgotten how she moved.
She held her dress in one hand. In the other an umbrella. Our eyes met. I saw the confusion spread across her face. Was it from me? Was it from the locked doors of the funeral home?
“Knight.”
“Visitation is over,” I explained. I didn’t have words planned for when I saw her. But I sure as hell didn’t think it would be those.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I should have been here earlier. I guess I got the time wrong.” Her lips looked as edible as they always did. Lush. Pink. She let the umbrella tip sideways. It shielded half her face. I wanted to see her eyes again.
“It’s okay. You didn’t miss much.” I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“I’m so sorry about your father, Knight. I came to pay my respects to your family. I feel awful I’m late. I wanted to tell Felicia how truly sorry I am. My assistant sent a card earlier and flowers. Did my flowers arrive?”
It was then I noticed the dark shadow hovering behind her. Was that fucking Kimble? Five years later, and he was still lurking?
“Thanks for stopping by.” The rain pelted my face. It was soaking into the collar on my shirt.
I was immobile as long as she stood in the rain.
Kimble took the umbrella from her and offered his arm to help her navigate the puddles on the pavement.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.” She glanced at me over her shoulder while he escorted her to a black SUV.
Chapter17
Kennedy
“Everything all right?” Kimble asked as he steered out of the parking lot. The windshield wipers were on the highest setting.
“Yes, it’s fine.” I stared out the window but refused to look backward.
“You knew he’d be there.” I felt Kimble’s eyes watching me in the rearview mirror.
“I know.” I folded my hands together. Rain had splotched part of my silk dress. “It was inevitable. It’s his father’s funeral.”
