He looks a little scary.
We lift our feet at the same time and climb the steps leading to the massive front doors.
Men line the stairs, all looking like they’re ready for a war.
My black ballet flats are silent on the concrete, and I’m glad I wore these shoes.
My belted long-sleeve shirt dress might be a bit short for a funeral, but it was the first black dress I could find. And the single nod Dominic gave me when I came down from our room told me it was suitable.
The doors are opened before us, and everything inside me goes cold.
I hate funerals.
I hate them so much.
My fingers squeeze Dominic’s.
He might be my enemy in this battle I didn’t know we were fighting, but he’s also the closest thing I have to a friend here.
And if he makes me sit alone…
I tug on his hand.
Dom tips his face down to me. He doesn’t say anything. And his intensity almost keeps me quiet. But my anxiety is nearing phobia levels.
“Will…” My lips tremble, and I press them together for a second. “Will you sit with me?”
When he doesn’t answer me, my eyes fill with tears.
I blink and look anywhere but at him, trying to avoid the eyes of the men still surrounding us.
“Angel.” His voice is soft. The voice I used to know. A thumb brushes across my cheek. “You’ll always be seated at my side.”
He cups the side of my face with his warm hand, holding me still as he presses his lips against my forehead.
I want to hate him.
“You can be sad in there. You can let people see your beautiful heart. Let them love you.” Dom brushes another tear away. “But we’re walking in with our shoulders back. Because those people in there need to believe in us. And we’re stronger together.”
I want to hate him so badly.
I straighten my shoulders and use my free hand to brush my hair back from my face.
When I look up to meet Dom’s bright blue gaze, I see that familiarity I heard a moment ago.
It hurts to see it. A reminder of what I thought we were building.
But even with that hurt, it’s still comforting. And I don’t care how toxic it is right now. I need the comfort of him.
I need someone.
“Come, Wife. And meet your new family.” The side of his mouth pulls into the smallest smile, just for me.
Then he pulls me with him into the church.
The dull murmuring of a large crowd trying to be quiet dulls even more as we start down the aisle.
Memories try to pull me under. Flashes of the worst moments of my life. But I walk alongside Dom, one step at a time.
I work to keep my free hand relaxed at my side.
There are so many people here. Hundreds.
It’s like my dad’s funeral.
A woman smiles at me when my eyes fall on hers.
I give her a small smile back, my throat tightening even more.
A stranger just smiled at me. This is nothing like my dad’s funeral.
Dom dips his chin, acknowledging the people we pass. An older woman reaches out and touches his hand. I do my best to breathe while I make as much eye contact as I’m capable of. Each set of kind eyes twists that barb deeper into my heart.
We keep walking, passing pew after pew, all the way to the front of the church.
And that’s when I finally look forward. At the large photo of a man younger than Dominic. His smiling face, framed in gold, signifying his death.
Oh god, I can’t do this.
Dom lets go of my hand, but before I can scramble to grab it back, he’s pressing his palm against my back, guiding me to the right, into the front row.
The pew is full, except for the first two spots, and the woman seated next to the open spots stands.
“Aunt Dina.” Dominic holds out his hands, and she clasps them. “I want you to be the first to meet my wife.”
What is he doing? Introductions now?
The woman, probably in her sixties, turns to me with red-rimmed eyes.
Oh, sweet Jesus, is this the dead man’s mother?
The woman steps forward, and before I can react, she wraps me in a hug.
I freeze.
For one heartbeat, I freeze.
Then I feel her body trembling against mine, and I hug her back. Holding her tight.
Because this is a clinging hug. One without reservations. One that’s more than a greeting. It’s… real.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as tears drip off my lashes. “I’m so sorry.”
After a long moment, she pulls back, and I release my grip on her, only for her to place her hands on my cheeks. “Bless you, sweet girl.” She kisses one of my cheeks, then the other.