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When I hear a knock, I look away from the window. “Come in,” I call out.
My voice is raspy, my throat still sore, but I’m getting better every day.
My doctor released me a few days ago under strict instructions to get plenty of rest and keep any stressful activity to a minimum, including work. That’s been the silver lining in all of this, giving me a reprieve from answering where I stand with Jameson.
He’s visited me daily, first in the hospital, then at my apartment. But we’ve kept our conversations light, neither of us discussing the giant elephant in the room.
“Are you ready?” Anderson asks as he steps into my living room, looking dashing in his military dress uniform.
I nod, lowering the small, black web veil in front of eyes. He strides toward me, placing a hand on the middle of my back as he helps me across the room. He’s been like this since the accident, not allowing me to overexert myself too much while my lungs continue to heal.
It goes without saying he was quite shaken up by what happened. I am, too. Every time I close my eyes, I’m transported back to that night. To the burning in my lungs. The flames licking my face. The struggle to open the door. Then the horror when I looked at the front seat to see there was no way to save Adam.
All because of me.
“How are you holding up?” Anderson asks once we’re situated in the back seat of a dark SUV, his chief protection officer behind the wheel.
I force a smile, pushing down the nerves bubbling to the surface over the prospect of seeing Creed again. I’m not sure what to expect. All I know is today will be difficult. Not only because it’ll mean saying goodbye to Adam. It’ll also mean saying goodbye to Creed.
To the idea of us.
If there ever was an us.
“Okay. You?”
He returns my sad smile. “I’m okay.”
I reach across the seat, squeezing his hand to the best of my ability through my bandages. At least they’re not as thick as they were a week ago, my burns healing nicely.
Neither one of us says anything during the short drive to the National Cathedral. I can’t even look out the window. If I do and see the hundreds of mourners lining the sidewalks to pay tribute to Adam, I’ll lose it. I’m grateful they’re out there, but it serves as a reminder he’s gone.
And despite the fact it’s been ten days without seeing him, without sitting in the back seat of the SUV listening to him excitedly remark about feeling the baby kick in Rory’s belly, I still haven’t fully accepted his death.
Just like I haven’t fully accepted that Creed’s now in the royal guard.
Two inevitabilities I’ll have no choice but to come to terms with today.
When the SUV pulls to a stop, I look toward the cathedral steps. As expected, there’s a huge security presence keeping the media sharks at bay. Men dressed in black surround the car, our protection team not taking any chances after recent events.
“Are you ready for this?” Anderson raises a concerned brow.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He nods, giving me a reassuring smile before tapping on the window, signaling we’re ready. A guard opens the door, and Anderson slides out before helping me to my feet, not letting go as we climb the steps up to the cathedral, guards flanking us on all sides.
Cameras flash, causing my irises to burn as reporters shout my name, asking how I feel. How I’m recovering from my injuries. If I’m concerned that Hayes Barlow is still at large. If Jameson’s been taking care of me during my convalescence.
I don’t answer any of them, biting my tongue when I’d love nothing more than to scream at them for asking such insensitive questions, considering this is a funeral for my chief protection officer who died in the line of duty.
Who died because of my selfishness.
Once we’re escorted through the elaborate cathedral lobby and into the nave, silence surrounds us. Along with something bigger. Mercy. Compassion. Grace.
One of my clearest childhood memories is stepping into this cathedral for my father’s coronation. How on display I felt walking down this aisle as everyone judged me.
Today, there’s no one here to judge me, at least not yet, the space empty so the royal family can pay our respects in private before being put on display.
As I approach the altar, awareness prickles my skin, my stomach heavy, chest tight. I try not to look at Creed as he stands beside Rory and his parents, all of them waiting to receive us and accept our condolences. No matter how much I try to resist, I still feel a pull toward him.
