Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(69)

Look around.

“You know,” he starts, looking at the three of us gathered around the table, “today will go a lot smoother for me if you all

stop staring at me like I’m a bomb.” His half-empty coffee mug crashes into the sink and he storms out of the room. Monica and I

stare at each other, her fork mid-air.

“It’s OK, girls,” David says softly. “He’s going to feel a wide range of emotions for a long time. Stick with him.”



*



Monica finishes my hair, and when I’m finally dressed, we head downstairs. I don’t trust my tears today, so I’ve opted for no

makeup. Monica receives a text from Josh saying David and Bo are at the church. It almost bugs me they didn’t tell us they were

leaving, until I realize David may have wanted some one-on-one time with Bo. Maybe Bo needed to be alone.

“You slept together last night?” Monica asks as she turns onto the main road.

“Not like that. He said he didn’t want to be alone ...” I close my eyes and remember the feel of his hair through my fingers, as

I lay awake.

As we come upon the First Congregational Church, the sheer number of people present overwhelms me. Traffic is being directed by a

lone police officer in black cotton gloves. It’s just like W.H. Auden wrote it, and I really wonder if anything can ever come to

any good in a world that no longer holds Rachel Cavanaugh.

We park a block away and walk quickly to the church. It seems weird, having a funeral in the middle of summer on a gorgeous

eighty-degree day. I picture all funerals happening in winter; grey skies, people bundled in black pea coats burying their faces in

their scarves. No, today there isn’t anywhere to hide our sorrows. I should have worn yellow or something, I realize too late as

we file up the church steps like ants. Rae would have liked color.

I bob my head up and down and side-to-side trying to spot Bo, as we make our way down the center aisle of the church. I see him in

the front row, but the pearl necklace sitting next to him stops me in my tracks. Ainsley’s perched directly between Bo and Regan.

Before irritation takes over, I grin and lead my eyes upward, sharing a laugh with Rae over her choice of jewelry. Two rows behind

Bo and what appears to be family, Josh flags us down. We slide into the row, acknowledging uneasy condolences from C.J. before the

service begins.

The prayers and hymns are lovely, yet lonely. Although I’ve only been in a church once, I recognize “Amazing Grace” as “The

Weeping Song” and when it’s sung, I sink into the pew and bury my forehead in my hands. C.J. sits next to me and tries to

suffocate the shaking of my shoulders. When it’s over, the final song plays and the casket is positioned to glide out of the

church with family behind it. Bo rises. David and Ainsley each try to stand and walk out of the pew with him, but he waves them

off.

The congregation stands as Bo starts down the aisle. For the first time since we went to bed last night, Bo’s eyes connect with

mine just before he reaches my row. Time stops its sovereign march for a moment, and lets us take a breath in each other. Before

his chin quivers a second time, I push past Monica and Josh and root myself at his side. Grabbing his hand, I give it a slight

squeeze before he interlaces his fingers with mine. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder what people thought of me—a girl most

of them don’t know, escorting their lost son out of the church behind his dead sister.





Chapter Thirty-Two



The house is empty again. After the mourners, and the hugs, and the casseroles, everyone’s journeying back to their lives. Regan

sat with Bo in the backyard most of the afternoon, while I continued arranging food. I plainly told Carrie that I’d be taking the

week off, and she didn’t argue. I’ve never taken care of anyone but myself before, and it’s taken completely over; I don’t want

to be anywhere else but here. I begged Regan not to leave the country without saying goodbye, but I know he will. I would too.

When the last of the dishes are put away and I’m sure Bo has passed out from emotional exhaustion somewhere, I slide out of my

heels and press my sore feet onto the cold tile floor. I sigh, wincing on my exhale, as my aching shoulders feel the weight of the

last two days. It hurts.

“You’re still here.” Bo’s relieved voice startles me, forcing me to grip the edge of the counter.

I turn tiredly and find him in the doorway wearing his suit from today—minus the coat and with a loosened tie. His messy dark hair

shows how often he ran his hands through it today, and his blue eyes are tired.

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave. I meant it. Not until you kick me out.” I giggle. He doesn’t.

My heart races with uncertainty as he walks toward me with a look of purpose in his eyes. Bo takes the dishtowel out of my hand and

tosses it carelessly on the counter. I glance in its direction but am stopped by his hands grabbing my face. His lips part as he

scans my face, eyes darting back and forth, trying to find words.

I shake my head in question. “Bo ...”