The Love Series Complete Box Set (129 page)

“I . . . I don’t know the first thing about running a business.” This is too much too soon. I can’t possibly make all of these decisions today, right now.

I think Linda and Ray can feel the panic rising in the room, a palpable vibration of anxiety tightly wound around us.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to decide anything right now, right Ray?” Linda looks over at him for reassurance while I sit in the middle of them, panic-stricken and choked mute with fear.

“Take all the time you need, Luce.” Ray squeezes my hand and I exhale a deep breath.

“Okay,” is all I can squeak out past the hot lump of emotion in my chest.

Swiping away her own tears, Linda stands before us with renewed purpose. “Cookies. We need cookies.”

I can’t help but laugh as she practically races into the kitchen, grabbing a platter of gingerbread men. She hands us each a cookie and holds hers in front of her. “To friends,” she toasts as she taps all of our cookies together in some kind of ridiculous gingerbread man high-five.

“To friends.” Laughter bubbling in my chest. I feel a flicker of light and hope crack open inside of me.

In the months following Christmas, that shimmer of light takes on a life of its own. I use the money Jimmy’s co-workers raised for Melanie and me to pay off the house. I can’t ever imagine myself living somewhere else. I also take Ray up on the offer to let him buy me out of the company. We work out a payment plan to ensure I have a steady source of income and so that Ray doesn’t go bankrupt over the buyout. I’ll also have enough money to start a college fund for Melanie.

When Jimmy died, a part me died with him. But when Melanie was born, part of me was reborn too, the part that knew I had to keep on living despite the pain, and that I had to find beauty in the midst of all the ugliness. Jimmy had been my everything, but now my daughter owned the only space left in my heart.

Chapter Seven

December 28, 2012

“We should go back inside, Joe.” My breath swirls up and out into the cold winter air. The chill of the evening has nothing on the cold darkness that’s fallen on my younger brother’s life.

You would think losing Sara, his first wife, to a suicide brought on by her untreated bi-polar disorder is more than any one person should have to deal with. When Joe found Becca all those years later, I felt like he was finally getting the life he deserved.

Then she got sick.

Then he lost her.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.” He stares blindly into the dusty rose of the setting sun, seemingly to avoid looking at me with his tear-filled eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s lame and pathetic, but there’s nothing else to say.

Katie, his daughter from his first marriage, walks up next to us and loops her arm through her father’s. “Hey, Daddy. You okay?” My heart breaks looking at her puffy, red eyes and sad face. Even though Becca was sick for a long time, it’s not easier to say goodbye to her.

Joe pats Katie’s hand as it rests in the crook of his elbow. “I’m not right now, but I’ll be okay, sweetie.” Just as we turn to walk inside, a few cars pull into the lot. I recognize them from back at Joe’s house. It’s Becca’s son from her first marriage and his friends.

I arrived at Joe’s house late this morning so I didn’t get the chance to be introduced to everyone. Katie makes up for that now, though. “Uncle Evan, this is Reid and his girlfriend Maddy.” We shake hands and Maddy offers up a sad smile.

“Reid, I’m so sorry. Your mom was a really great woman.” See? Lame again, but I’m no good when it comes to loss.

Though, you would think that years of experience would make me an expert in it.

“Thanks.” He reaches down and pulls Maddy’s hand into his. Joe sees it and I can’t help but wonder if he feels some kind of phantom pain in his own hand.

The rest of Reid’s friends follow behind him and I hold the door for them to walk in front of me. Just as I’m about to follow them in, another car pulls into the lot. The woman who exits the car is clearly flustered as she pulls her jacket around her body tightly. She shuts the driver’s door and I can hear her mumbled curses even though I’m more than a few feet away from her.

“Crap!” She pounds against the doorframe.

I startle her as I walk over to her. “Everything okay?”

With her hands cupped against the window, I follow her gaze to her bag, which is opened on the front seat. Inside, I can clearly see her keys. “Yeah, it’ll be okay. I think my daughter has a spare.” She angles her head toward the building indicating that one of the girls, who just walked in, must be her daughter. Becca’s is the only service here tonight so I know she’s not here for anyone else.

“Hold on. I think I can help.” I walk over to my truck and open the emergency repair kit in the back. Within seconds, I’ve got the lock shimmied open and her keys back in her hand.

“Thanks,” she says with a little uncertainty.

She buttons her jacket and jams her hands in the pockets as a frigid gust of wind blasts through the mostly empty parking lot.

An awkward moment of silence passes between us with our backs pressed up against the cold metal of her car. “So . . .” I begin so speak but her words interrupt mine.

“Come here often?”

I choke on my laughter. “I’m sorry, what?”

Her laughter, beautiful and soft, feminine and throaty, competes with mine. “That was bad, huh?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” I pinch my fingers together in front of my face.

“Okay, what I
meant
to ask was, do you just hang out in the parking lot waiting for people to lock their keys in their cars and come to their rescue?” An arched eyebrow accompanies her joke.

“Now, that just makes me sound like a creep.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the car.

“I’m assuming that you’re here for Becca Donovan? She’s the only service tonight,” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I am. That means you are too then. How did you know her?” There’s genuine concern in her eyes, a sense of mourning on her face. I wonder if she was close with Becca; she seems to be really affected by her passing.

“She was my brother’s wife. I’m Evan by the way.” I offer her my hand.

“Lucy.” The touch of her delicate and cold fingers sends a tingle up my arm. “I’m Melanie’s mom. Becca’s son, Reid, is dating my daughter’s best friend.”

She shivers again as another gust of cold air flows around us. I see Katie peek her head out of the door, scanning the parking lot for me. I wave over to her and hold up one finger to let her know I’ll be there in one minute.

“I guess we should go.” Pushing away from the car, I extend my arm to the side letting her walk past me.

“Sure.” We both seem to be avoiding going inside; well, at least I know I am.

As we make our way up the few steps leading to the entrance, Lucy trips, somehow managing to trip
up
the steps. She grabs a hold of my pant leg, throwing me off balance as well.

Sprawled out across three steps leading into my sister-in-law’s funeral, Lucy and I lose ourselves in a fit of laughter.

“Are you okay?” I ask when I catch my breath again.

She brushes her hands against her legs, dusting off the grains of sand stuck in her palms. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to take you down with me.”

“Glad I could join you for your trip.” She laughs at my stupid joke and we find ourselves just sitting on the steps, neither of us making a move to get up and walk inside.

“I hate these places,” I say, staring out into the recently turned black night sky.

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite either,” she admits, forcing me to twist on the stair and search her face for more information.

Just as she looks like she’s about to say something, the door creaks open again and the redhead who scooted past me earlier pops her head outside.

“Mom? What are you doing out here? I was worried you got lost.” Melanie holds out her hand to help Lucy up from the steps.

When she stands, Lucy brushes her hands over her ass, dusting away the dirt and smoothing out her pants. I can’t help but check out her ass, my eyes immediately drawn to the firm roundness. It’s sad that I’ve just checked out a woman’s ass outside of a funeral parlor. Maybe God will strike me down or something, but it’s a nice ass.

“Hi, honey. I wasn’t lost.” She stands and kisses Melanie on the cheek. “I just locked my keys in the car and Evan helped me. Then I tripped up the steps and Evan helped me again. We were just about to come inside.” Lucy offers her hand to me as I stand.

Despite the frigidity in the air, when Lucy gently wraps her small fingers around mine a flash of warmth passes between us. Our eyes meet; a look of understanding passes between us. Rather than letting go of my hand when I’m standing, she loops her arm through mine, and even though she says nothing, her face tells me I don’t have to go in there alone, if I don’t want to. I nod my silent thanks and we walk through the doors.

It ends up being a small service, which means I get to spend most of the evening talking with Lucy. I don’t bother asking her about why she doesn’t like funerals. Besides, I don’t particularly like getting into the specifics of why I hate them.

Old wounds, though scabbed over, open easily and bleed profusely.

“So what do you do, Lucy?” Keep it simple, easy.

“Office work. Exhilarating, right?” She chuckles, dismissing the simplicity of her work. “Actually, I was just recently assigned a project to help with Care for a Cure, a children’s cancer center research facility,” she adds casually, as if it’s no big deal she’s doing such wonderful work.

“Wow, that’s really impressive.”

“What do you do?” She turns in her seat to face me and her knee brushes mine. The same warmth that passed through her hand earlier, now courses through my leg.

“Right now, I’m on medical leave, but I’m a captain in the FDNY.” The look of shock that passes across her face is also colored with concern.

“Did you get hurt? When will you return?” Her hand falls on top of mine, comfortably, not awkward at all.

I smile to diffuse her worry and cover her hand with mine. “I hurt my shoulder in a drill, so I should be back soon enough. Nothing to cause any concern,” I lie. Laying out the details of my PTSD, paired with my lung cancer recovery to the woman I’ve just met and will more than likely never see again, just doesn’t seem right.

Relief washes over her face as her daughter approaches us. Even though we already met outside, Lucy introduces us. As Lucy and Melanie talk, I study Lucy’s face.

Her long brown hair falls past her shoulders in waves. When she casually tosses it over her shoulders, I catch the scent of something sweet. Vanilla, maybe. Her eyes are her most striking feature, by far. Sapphire blue, sparkling with such emotion, they light up her entire face.

Lost in my open perusal of her beauty, I don’t even realize that Melanie has stopped talking. She looks directly at me, arches an eyebrow—playfully not suspiciously. “Oh, my God! You were just checking out my mom.”

I choke on my tongue, trying to spit out a defense I know will only make me sound guiltier than I already am.