Ready for You (Ready #3)(41)

“Get the f**k up.”

At her bold words, my eyes darted to hers. She wasn’t messing around. She was stone-cold serious. Well, two could play at that game.

I sat up so that we were nose-to-nose. I could feel her breath against my neck, and heat radiated off her body.

“I’m. Not. Fucking. Going,” I punctuated each word as the anger seethed out of every pore on my body.

I was a ticking time bomb, and she was playing with fire.

Just when I thought she would match me and give me exactly what I needed—her screaming back and offering up a worthy opponent to channel my rage—she did the opposite.

She reached out, clutching my face gently, as she whispered, “What are you afraid of Garrett?”

“I’m not scared, damn it!” I yelled, pulling back from her tender touch.

“Then, what is this about? Because I know you wouldn’t willingly bail on your family when they need you.”

Her hand found mine, and I didn’t think she understood the effect her touch had on me. Every single brush of her hand and lingering touch or taste of her lips was like taking a walk back in time. I would remember the first time she’d let me hold her hand at school or the shy smile she had given me when I taught her to ride a bike in my driveway. My dad had laughed at me, saying I had the worst game he’d ever seen, but I’d gotten her anyway. I’d been so excited to tell him that we were getting married, but I’d never gotten the chance.

“I can’t go, Mia. I don’t know how to be strong today,” I said, feeling deflated. I gripped her hand like a lifeline.

“No one is asking you to be strong. Let me be the strong one today. Just hold my hand and find a way to say good-bye,” she answered.

“Okay,” I said in defeat.

She helped me find a suit and tie and politely stepped out of the room while I changed, but I quickly called her back in. My hands were so shaky that I couldn’t button my own shirt. She gave me a sad smile and helped me with the buttons as I tried not to bend down and smell her hair. She was wearing a classy form-fitting black dress and heels. Her normally straight hair was curled and pinned back.

“Can you help me with my tie, too?” I asked, handing the dark blue silk tie to her.

She nodded and reached up to loop it around my neck. Our eyes met and held briefly before she quickly looked down and began working on the knot.

“There you go,” she said, taking a step back to put space between us.

“Thank you. I guess it’s time.”

She nodded and took my hand as I tried to find a way to say good-bye to my father.

Chapter Fourteen

~Mia~

I was full of shit.

I’d told him I would be strong for him, but I honestly didn’t know if I could be.

When I’d seen him broken and defeated, curled up on that bed like the world was closing in around him, I hadn’t known what else to do. So, I had taken charge and fought for him when he didn’t have the strength to do so himself.

As we walked into that church on this hot summer day, with his fingers curled around my own, I seriously doubted my ability to be all that he needed me to be. But I would give everything to try. Immediately after entering the church, we were greeted by an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a name tag that said Betty with the church logo. She gave Garrett a sad smile, recognizing him at once. He looked so much like his father that it was hard to miss the resemblance.

“You must be Garrett,” she said, taking his free hand in greeting.

He nodded, and she offered her condolences to which he just stared at the floor and swallowed hard.

“We’ve set up a room over here,” she said, pointing to the right of the sanctuary, “where the family can wait until it’s time to enter.”

I saw her quickly glance at our joined hands, and I didn’t miss her eyes darting to Garrett’s ring finger.

“Your friend is free to take a seat in the sanctuary until the service begins,” she said politely.

“She stays with me. She is family today,” he insisted.

We turned away, leaving the woman stunned and speechless.

Judgmental old bat.

The church Garrett and Clare’s parents attended was large and modern with high ceilings and updated decor. Every church I’d ever been in always had a distinctive musty odor, but walking into this church felt more like walking into a performing arts building. It was huge.

We entered the room designated for the family and found them all gathered together tightly. Everyone was talking in hushed tones and passing around boxes of tissues. I suddenly felt out of place, like I was intruding on a private moment. Garrett must have sensed my hesitance because his hand tightened on mine, and I was suddenly reminded why I was there.

This day wasn’t about me or how I might feel. It was about the man standing next to me. He needed me, and no matter what was going on between us, I would be there for him. I owed him that much. Regardless, I wanted to do this for him. I would do anything for him.

All eyes turned to us as the door shut behind us.

“Garrett,” his mother said, rising from her seat to greet us. She pulled her son in a tight hug and stroked his hair, which I found endearing.

She turned toward me, and to my surprise, she also pulled me into a warm embrace. “So good to see you again, Mia. Welcome home. We’ve missed you.”