I PULLED MYSELF together once we were on the road. Mom and I talked the entire way, but I avoided questions about Rhys, not knowing what exactly to say. He’s not a one woman kind of man, and I can’t have that. Our arrangement was for the time I was there. When I left, it was over. The thought of another woman in his bed brings me to my knees, crushing my heart with a sledgehammer. Therefore, I don’t want to talk about him. I want to avoid the subject.
I have this gut feeling he won’t be showing up for the funeral today or anytime else, for that matter. That feeling depresses the hell out of me. That’s why the good-bye was so hard. I knew he ruined me for other men, and there is no going back from him. Even if by some miracle he does come up, he won’t stay. His life is there. Mine and my mother’s lives are here.
I slip into the black dress and put on my pumps. We arrived back at my apartment late last night. I gave Mom my bed and slept on the couch. She says she has to do paperwork tomorrow for the house. It’s a good thing she owned it because they weren’t officially married, and she would have gotten nothing on the insurance. At least, that’s what the guy told her on the phone on the way up here.
My stomach is twisting like a roller coaster on crack. I know it’s a combination of today’s events and the fact that I haven’t heard a word from Rhys, only proving to me further that we are done and over with.
The ache in my heart has nothing to do with the death of James. To him, good-riddance. The pain is solely for Rhys. I’m not saying we’ll have some happily ever after, but more time would have been nice.
I’ll see if he shows up today then figure out what Mom and I are going to do.
I walk into the living room where Mom sits on the couch, her head back as she looks up at the ceiling. Her marks have mainly healed, and I did her makeup liberally to hide anything else. She’s wearing a back pencil skirt; flowing, black shirt; and black flats.
“You ready?” I ask, moving closer to the couch.
She turns her head my way. “As much as I can be.”
STARES.
All around me, people turn to look at me and my mother. She’s doing her bit as the grieving widow, but I have to admit I’m pretty sure most of her tears are very real. Several mourners, including James’s parents, hugged us when we arrived as we took our seats.
The service is a full-out cop’s funeral with cars following the hearse while I drive my mother behind it. She was asked to ride in the limo with the parents, but declined, saying she wanted to be alone. I don’t really know her reasoning, but I went with it.
As I stand here at the reception with cops everywhere, I can’t help looking every few minutes to see if Rhys has shown up. I’ve checked my phone hundreds of times, only to be disappointed each time. Still nothing.
I’ve talked to so many cops and well-wishers, smiling and shaking hands, even accepting hugs when they offered them.
It’s so strange that the reason all these people are joined together is because I took the man’s life. Me. He deserved it—don’t get me wrong—but that is still on my shoulders. I’ve done my best to hide any emotion the entire time.
What I wouldn’t give to have Rhys’s arms around me to take it all away, but he’s not here and, with the funeral coming to an end, not coming. I knew it, but a small part of me hoped, and now I feel incredibly let down.
“Ms. O’Ryan?” The voice has me turning quickly without thinking.
“Officer Miller.” I need to work on masking myself better. Seeing him dredges up everything that happened back in Sumner, even the fact that Griff didn’t show for his best friend and partner’s funeral. I want to know what they did, but I don’t. I think it would be best if I didn’t.
“So sorry for your loss.” A very pretty, petite blonde stands next to him, clutching his hand like she’s afraid he’ll vanish.
“Thank you,” I respond, the words coming out light.
“Officer Miller, thank you so much for coming,” my mother says from next to me, extending her hand like everything that happened has just vanished into thin air. She’s so poised and perfect. I want to be her.
I have to hand it to the man; he’s very good at nonchalance. He introduces us to his very quiet wife, and then they skirt off. I heave a breath after he leaves. I need a moment.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I tell my mother, moving off quickly.
I enter the stall and sit to do my business, checking my phone again. A giddy rise comes out of me when it shows I have a missed text, though it’s from my father’s phone, not Rhys’s. I try not to let the disappointment swirl inside of me, but it’s hard.
I open up the little envelope on my phone.
This is R. Got club business. Can’t make it. Phone dead. Will call soon.
How is it possible to have such a barrage of emotions knocking me on my ass at one time? I’m so happy he contacted me yet so disappointed that I’m not going to see him.
I type out a message.
Okay. Miss you.
I stare at the words. No, don’t put that. I erase the last two words and send it. At least I know for sure so no more looking over my shoulder, hoping to see him.
I put my phone in my clutch and finish, coming out of the stall to wash my hands. I stop abruptly when Griff’s wife looks at me in the mirror, her eyes red-rimmed. I’ve met her a couple of times, but I’m nowhere near friends with her. My nerves pick up just a bit.
Suzie turns to me. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” A fresh batch of tears fall from her eyes as she sniffles and moves away from the sink.
“Thank you.”
I let Suzie lead this conversation since I don’t know what happened to Griff and don’t want to say anything wrong.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I haven’t heard from Griff for days. He said he was going out on a fishing trip, but I haven’t heard from him. I called down to Georgia where he said he was going, and they haven’t found him. I’m so scared.”
Okay, so he didn’t come home. Chances are, he’s dead, and good-riddance to him, as well.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“You were in Georgia. Did you see him?”
My throat dries, and I feel the room closing in on me. Shit.
“Georgia is a very big place,” I respond, not lying in the least.
Her hand comes out and clutches my arm. “I’m so scared. I …” Fresh tears coat her eyes, and the pit of my stomach drops for this woman. She loves the asshole, and chances are, she’ll never see him again. And I’m okay with that. I’m actually okay that this woman is crying for a man who put his hands on me. What in the hell is wrong with me?
She bats away the wetness and blots her face with tissues. “I’m sorry. You have enough on your plate. Griff loved James so much.”
You have no idea. “I know he did.” I rinse my hands quickly, knowing I have sanitizer in my purse. I need to get out of here. “I have to go find my mom.”
“Oh, sure, dear. Thanks for listening.”
I haul ass out to my mom. I thank the clock on the wall that tells me this is almost over.
“Mom.” I bend down to her ear and whisper, “We need to go.” I’m hoping to convey that I’m just done. I’ve had my fill and need to retreat to somewhere far, far away.
Mom nods and rises from the chair, excusing herself from the table of people I’ve met yet can’t remember their names.
Mom says her good-byes with me next to her, smiling and nodding the entire time. Walking up to James’s parents, my stomach starts churning.
“Mearna, darling,” James’s mother Rose says, the stench of her floral perfume filling the space. My mother goes willingly into her arms, hugging her back. “I know this probably isn’t the time, but we talked to the lawyer. He has a will that James filed, leaving everything he has to you, including his pension.”
I grasp my mom’s hand, not knowing exactly what that means, but I know it’s good.
“He also said that the insurance company is investigating, but the police have already closed, saying it was an accidental fire. You should be able to get the recovery of it.”
I want to say, yes, because she owns the house, but maybe his parents don’t know that tidbit of information. Therefore, I keep my lips shut. I just want the hell out of here.
“I have an appointment tomorrow with the insurance company in hopes of getting things sorted,” she says.
“I heard you met your father.” Tim, James’s father, looks at me. His gaze is expectant.
“Yes,” I answer.
“That’s awfully nice,” Tim says, looking at my mother. “Strange, the timing.”
I don’t move an inch as my mother squeezes my hand. “Tanner has been asking for quite some time. I am absolutely devastated about James.” She plays it off. My mother is officially the shit. Yes. The. Shit.
“Sure you are, honey.” Rose pats my mother’s arm.
Tim tilts his head, and I meet him stare for stare. It’s like he’s looking inside of me or something. Go for it. I don’t waver a bit, and he is the first to look away. Relief fills me. I have learned from my mother, and I like that a lot.
My mother wastes no time getting us the hell out of there.
I SHUT THE DOOR to the apartment and plop my purse on the floor along with my keys.
“Bad day?” my mother asks.
I move to the couch and lie down a bit dramatically, but that’s how I feel at the moment: pissed, hurt, alone, slapped in the face … I can go on.
“Went to see Anderson. He replaced me at the shop and no longer needs my services, or so he says.” I lost my job, even though I used some of my vacation time. “He said that, since I didn’t call him to tell him what was going on, he just replaced me.”
“Did you tell him that James died?” Mom asks, coming to sit in the chair next to the couch.
“Yep. He said he was sorry, but that was it. He hired this blonde bimbo with tits so huge she needs two bras to hold them up. And get this, she calls him sir. What the hell is that about?” I grind out and Mom chuckles. “This isn’t funny. I have no money!”
“Sweetheart, calm down. First of all, we have plenty of money. The insurance payoff is on its way, and I have plenty to hold us over. Second, if she is calling him sir in that sense, be happy that you’re not her.” She laughs more.
She’s right. I’ve read enough books and watched enough movies to know where she is going with this. Still, I loved that job. It was an awesome place to work at.
“I got a call from your father while you were gone.”
Five days, and all I’ve gotten from Rhys was a text, short and clipped. He never called like he said he was going to, and I for sure wasn’t going to call him. Screw that. All right, I’m probably being a little overdramatic, but it’s better this way. He’s splitting off, and it’s for the best. Nowhere in his text did he say he was on his way here. As a matter of fact, he said he couldn’t make it due to club business, so I know that must be more important. Then again, like Princess said, all club business is more important. I shouldn’t resent that, yet I do. It gave Rhys the perfect escape.
The fact that my father called my mother is a bit baffling, though.
“I didn’t know you two were talking.”
“We talk quite a bit.”
So, Dagger can call my mother and talk, but Rhys can’t call me. A lead weight hangs in my gut. What if the reason he hasn’t is because he’s seeing other women? Since the arrangement is over, he decided he needed sex from others. The lead rolls in my stomach as bile starts to rise in my throat. He can’t be, and if he is, I don’t want to know about it.
“Really?”
“Their business took a little longer, but he said he’ll be here in a couple of days.”
I chew my bottom lip, wanting to ask if Rhys is coming, wanting to know if he already forgot about me. I don’t, though. I hardly ever speak to my mother about him. It’s like, if I don’t talk about it, then it’s not real.
“Then what?” I ask.
“Sweetheart, we need to decide if we want to say here or move down to Sumner.”
I focus on her and gape. “You want to move there?”
“I don’t have much up here besides you.”
“I’ll have to think about it.” After all, if things are truly done with Rhys, I sure as hell don’t want to live in the same area as him or see him around my father. I know me, and that would be too much for me to bear. “And what is going on with you and Dagger? He has a woman, you know.”
My mother’s eyes shut as if the pain is too much to take. I understand her. The thought of the man you care about being with another is too much.
“I know. I’m not sure about anything at the moment.” She shifts in the chair and lays her head back, looking at the ceiling.
Times like these, I wish I could read my mother’s thoughts. Hell, I wish my thoughts were more understandable.