I’ve never been a fan of huge churches, particularly one as big as the one in which I’m sitting right now. According to a brochure I read before arriving, this particular congregation is big enough for more than fifty thousand souls. Can you even imagine a church this big? And, more than being just big, it’s also a luxurious one. It must've cost a fortune to erect these walls, and that’s probably why the Donovans were one of the main donors when it came to building.

It’s kinda fitting, in a way; a family as powerful as the Donovans always swing for the fences when it comes to occasions like this. I don’t think my father would’ve enjoyed a service this big, though, and if it were up to me, I’d have chosen somewhere more intimate. But I didn’t have a choice; I was in Rome when my father passed away, and the Donovans kindly arranged everything.

So, if it seems that I’m complaining, rest assured, I’m not.

Of course, I know that Jonathan Donovan wouldn’t mind going for something more intimate as well. After all, he knew my father better than anyone. But according to what my father used to tell me, Jonathan’s wife, Carolyn, cares about appearances as much as she cares about the air she breathes. Not that my father said that in a derogatory manner; according to him, keeping up with appearances was part of being one of the Donovans. After all, with the amount of money and power they have, they’re always under the public eye.

Not that everyone in the family follows these guidelines, particularly Jonathan’s daughter. She was always the rebellious one, partying hard as she made her way through college. Even though I spent the last few years in Europe, I always made sure I kept up with the news coming out from the States… And, sooner or later, there’d always be an article about Clarise, one of the heirs to the Donovan empire. Even though she was top of her class at Wharton Business School, the tabloids didn’t cut her any slack with her ‘party-hard’ attitude.

"What can I say about Edward?" Jonathan says, speaking into the microphone as he gazes down toward the thousands of people hanging on every word of his. He’s in the pulpit now, my father’s casket just a few meters away from him, and every set of eyeballs is trained on the leader of the Donovan family. His voice booms through the dozens of speakers mounted throughout the cavernous room, and I feel the air on the back of my neck standing up as I listen to him. "More than just a good man, he was an outstanding man. It’s no secret that he was one of my closest friends and, more than that, he also helped my family throughout the years."

The crowd remains silent at his words, but I can feel that some people are feeling the itch to start clapping. No wonder, I feel the same as well. But out of respect for my father, everyone remains solemnly silent.  

"It’s my deep belief," Jonathan continues, standing tall while he faces the crowd, "that the Donovan family wouldn’t be what it is today without the strong advice Edward offered us. But today is not about my family; today’s about the best man I’ve ever known in my entire life. A man of honor and integrity." Even though he has written his speech, he’s speaking straight from the heart right now. "And only one person in here knew Edward better than I do. And that’s his son, Connor."

He points toward me as he finishes speaking and I get up from my seat, buttoning my jacket as I do it. I was scheduled to speak immediately after Edward, so it doesn’t come as a surprise that he mentions me right now. The crowd finally submits to the urge to clap, but they do it in a respectful matter, quieting down as I walk down the main aisle and assume my position behind the pulpit.

"Have at it, son," Jonathan tells me politely, shaking my hand, and then he walks back to his seat, sitting down next to his family. I let my gaze wander over the crowd, but I find my eyes being drawn toward the Donovans. And when I say the Donovans, what I really want to say is Clarise.

No, don’t look at me like that. I’m just doing it out of curiosity, after all, I haven’t seen her in years. And, oh, the years have been very kind to her… She was already pretty as a young woman, but she has grown into someone truly extraordinary. Full lips, perfect curves, straight golden hair… Her mother was a beautiful woman back in the day, but I guess that Clarise has now claimed the title of Donovan beauty to herself.

"Thank you, everyone, for being here today," I finally say, leaning into the microphone and taking a deep breath. "My father was a simple man, and he lived his life in the way he knew best: with dignity, and with a strong sense of what it means to be responsible for our surroundings. He devoted his life to others and, in that, I think he was an example to be followed."

The crowd takes in my words attentively but, even though I keep on speaking for a few more minutes, my mind starts drifting. Somehow, I just can’t peel my eyes off Clarise… And she, like everyone else, is looking straight at me. And, Jesus, her deep blue eyes are making me lose my focus…

"Once again, thank you for being here. My father would take great pride in knowing that so many people loved him," I finish off, forcing myself to take my eyes off Clarise. The crowd starts clapping again and, without further ado, I make my way down the aisle toward my seat.

What the hell just happened in there?, I think to myself, Clarise’s figure burning bright inside my mind. This is my father’s funeral, and here I am, lusting after a woman I’m supposed to guide in life.

Not a good start, that’s for sure.