I put on my one suit, the one I'd bought for prom six years ago. It still fit, thankfully, and it wasn't like suits went out of style that fast, so I didn’t look frumpy. I stared at myself in the mirror—I'd been seriously considering not going once I’d thought some more about it. Mike would be there—Micah as he was known to his fans. I didn't want to see him. And at the same time, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I’d probably changed my mind about going to the wake ten times between when I’d found out Mike would be home and when it was time to get ready, but in the end I decided to put a brave face on it and go pay my respects. It was the least I could do, for both Maddie and for Mike’s dad Graham, who’d treated me like a son from the moment Mike had first brought me home to meet them.

As a rule etched in stone, I never went to see his movies, skipped past them on Netflix, ignored them in the bins in the grocery store. It made it easier for me. But now I was going to have to face him in real life. Mike had changed on the outside. I knew that, from unavoidable glimpses in trailers and on movie posters. From watching that stupid talk show last night, too. Was he still the same Mike on the inside? The one I'd given my heart to in high school, my body to at prom?

"Lew, you ready?" Mom called down the stairs.

"Coming," I yelled back and took one more look. Would he think I'd changed?

And why should I care? He hadn’t.

We got into line at the funeral home. It was long, with pictures of Maddie set up on stands and tables along the way. Something to look at while we waited, as well as a way to remember her how she’d been. I saw a few speculative glances cast my way—the gossip mill was grinding hard, I guessed. Well, I wasn't planning to give them any more fuel for the entertainment.

By the time we got to the start of the family line, an hour had passed. Everyone had known Maddie or knew who she was. Or they'd known Mike. He'd been big man on campus in high school. I'd thought I was so lucky to have him.

We moved slowly through the line—handshake, say something polite, move on. Over and over and over again. And all the while, I could feel him in the room. Like I was cold and he was a bonfire.

You can do this. Do not make a scene.

No, I thought I'd grown past that. One time making a fool of myself in front of everyone was enough.

I got to his sister. "Hi, Tasia. I'm so sorry for your loss."

She leaned out and hugged me to her. "Thank you. I know you loved her too. She talked about you all the time."

"She was a great lady," I said, but only half my attention was on her. The space to my right had opened up...

Time to face the music.

I let go of Tasia, who gave me a sympathetic look and squeezed my arm as I moved away from her. Stiffly, I held out a hand to shake Mike's. "I'm sorry for your loss," I said, now grateful for the practice I'd had going around the room.

"Thank you," he said gravely. And then blew all my composure out of the water. "I miss talking to you."

"Then you shouldn't have dumped me, should you?" I hissed back, a little too loud. Oops.

"Yeah," he said and there was real regret in his tone. Or maybe he was just acting.

Thank God the line moved again and I was able to offer my sympathies to his brother, then to his parents. And then I could stop for a moment for one last visit with Maddie.

They'd done a good job on her. As good as they could I supposed. She still looked dead. In some ways, even more dead now, in a nice dress with her hair done and makeup on, jewelry in place, than she had that morning when I'd gone in to check on her and bring her breakfast. I reached into my pocket and dug out the note I'd written to her, on fancy paper with a nice pen. Like in the old days. "I'll miss you, Maddie," I whispered and tucked it deep into the side of the casket, hoping no one else would notice me sneaking it in there. I wasn't family, and those of us who weren't had been asked not to clutter up the casket.

But dammit, I'd been looking after her every day for the past five years, pretty much. We'd talked. A lot. She knew what had happened between Mike and me. Knew what an idiot I'd made of myself. And she'd still been good to me. Told me stories from the golden days of Hollywood that made me wish I'd been alive back then. I wanted to send something of my love with her, wherever she was. She deserved love.

I snuck a glance around to see if anyone had noticed, then slunk my ass out the door to where Mom was waiting for me.

"You okay?" she asked, putting her arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah." I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, as if settling a jacket into place. "I'm gonna miss her."

She hugged me. "She'll always be with you, in your memories."

"I know."

We strolled a little farther before she said, "I saw Micah there."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh huh." She nodded and pursed her lips, then glanced over at me. "Well, at least you didn't set him on fire."

I shook her arm off in mock outrage. "Mom!"

"Well, you know what happened the last time..." she said, and held her hands up while I shook my head in disbelief at her. Not that I hadn't earned the tease, considering what had happened after the Great Mike Burning episode. "Come on, let's go get a coffee and a pastry down at the shop. I think we've both earned it."

I shouldn't eat my feelings, but the lure of chocolate croissants was far stronger than my willpower at the moment. "Okay. But you're buying, after that terrible joke."

She nodded and went to the driver's side of the car without protesting my planned raid on her pocketbook. But once we were inside the car, with the doors closed and no one to listen in on us, she gripped my hand and said, "I thought you kept it together very well in there. I'm proud of you."

“Thanks.” I let out a long breath and leaned my head back against the seat. “One down, one to go. The funeral shouldn’t be so bad.”

She squeezed my hand again. “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you.” Then she started the car and we headed out for the pastry shop.