You really thought I was dead? Well, surprise, surprise—I’m not! Up to the attic you go, Nina.
No. I won’t. Never again.
Never again.
“Nina.” A hand drops onto my shoulder. “How are you doing?”
I lift my eyes. It’s Suzanne. My former best friend. The woman who delivered me right back to Andy, when I told her what a monster he was.
“I’m hanging in there,” I say. I clutch the tissues in my right hand, which are mainly just for show. I’ve only squeezed out a single tear the entire day, and that was when I saw Cecelia dressed in a simple black dress I bought her for the funeral. She’s sitting beside me in that same dress, her blond hair mussed. Andy would have hated it.
“It was such a shock.” Suzanne scoops my hand into her own, and it takes a lot of self-restraint not to pull away. “Such a terrible accident.”
There is sympathy and pity in her eyes. She’s glad it was my husband and not her own. Poor, Nina, what bad luck she has. She has no idea.
“Terrible,” I murmur.
Suzanne gives Andy one last look, then she moves on. From the casket and with her life. I suspect that the funeral tomorrow might be one of the last times I ever see her. And it doesn’t make me even the slightest bit sad.
I stare down at my simple black pumps, drinking in the quiet of the viewing room. I hate talking to mourners, accepting their sympathy, pretending I’m devastated that this monster is dead. I can’t wait for this to be over so I can move on with my life. Tomorrow will be the last time I’ll have to play the part of the sad widow.
I look up at the sounds of footsteps at the door. Enzo casts a long shadow through the doorway, and his steps sound like gunshots in the quiet funeral parlor. He’s wearing a dark suit, and as handsome as he was working in my yard, he looks about a hundred times better in the suit. His dark, moist eyes meet mine.
“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “I can’t.”
My heart sinks. He isn’t telling me he’s sorry because of Andy. Neither of us are sorry about that. He’s sorry because yesterday I asked him if when this is all over, he might come with me to live across the country on the west coast—far away from here. I never expected him to say yes, but his decline of my offer still makes me sad. This man helped save my life—he’s my hero. Him and Millie.
“You will have fresh start.” A small crease forms between his eyebrows. “Better this way.”
“Yes,” I say.
He’s right. There are too many terrible memories between the two of us. It’s better to start fresh. But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss him. And I will never, ever forget what he did for me.
“Keep an eye on Millie, okay?” I say.
He nods. “I will. I promise.”
He reaches out to touch my hand one last time. Like Suzanne, I’ll probably never see him again. I’ve already put the house Andy and I shared on the market. Cece and I have been staying at a hotel because I can’t bear to walk into that place. I’m about eighty percent sure our old house is haunted.
I look over at Cecelia, who is squirming in a seat a few feet away from me. We slept in the hotel room last night, sharing a queen-size bed, her skinny body pressed against mine. I could’ve gotten an extra bed for the room, but she wants to be close to me. She still doesn’t quite understand what happened to the man she called her father and she hasn’t asked. She’s just relieved he’s gone.
“Enzo,” I say, “would you take Cece? She’s been here a long time and she’s probably hungry. Maybe take her to get some food.”
He nods and holds out a hand to my daughter. “Come, Cece. We get chicken nuggets and milkshakes.”
Cecelia hops out of her seat instantly—she doesn’t need to be asked twice. She’s been good about sitting with me here, but she’s still a young girl. I should handle this by myself.
A few minutes after Enzo leaves with Cece, the doors to the funeral parlor swing open once again. I instinctively take a step back when I see who is standing at the door.
It’s the Winchesters.
I hold my breath as Evelyn and Robert Winchester enter the room. It’s the first time I’ve seen them since Andy’s death, but I knew this moment was coming. They had come back from Florida for the summer only a few weeks earlier, but Evelyn hadn’t stopped by yet. I spoke to her only once when she called me to ask if I needed help organizing the funeral. I told her I didn’t.
Except the real truth was I wasn’t excited to talk to her after being responsible for the death of her only son.