Page 157 of When There Was You
Kendra tries to speak and chokes on a sob. “Nope. But we’ve got no choice.”
“Let’s get in there and find a seat before we’re stuck in standing room only.” I silently hand her a tissue.
We infiltrate the throng, scanning for open seats in the towering chapel. A dominating stained-glass scene looms behind the pulpit. We make it midway and push into a pew, then clasp hands tightly.
My gaze flits, panning the crowd, trying to study the pews around us. It’s impossible with the constant motion of people standing, sitting, or squeezing into seats.
I know what I’m doing, who I’m looking for, but I can’t make myself stop.
And then a flash of copper halts my breath.
The light hits Remy’s hair as people shift enough for me to catch it. The sight of him barrels into me.
In a blink, he turns.
His eyes land on me.
We share a moment frozen in time, and I feel it…the caress of his gaze, warm and something else.Damn, he looks good.
He offers a subtle smile, but I don’t return it. Despite the electricity flowing between us, I’m still hurt and fucking angry. His lips fall, and my eyes naturally gravitate to the seats beside him. His wife Sherry sits to his left. The crowd moves again and another head swivels my way with purpose.
Mick.
Our eyes collide and stick. My heart thunders and my chest floods as we stare for a full minute.
Surprise. Marvel. Regret. Reality.
His head tilts, providing a better view. His hair is short. He’s freshly shaved. Suit lapels visible. The whole getup is likely giving him hives. His cryptic smile morphs into a warm one and I freely give one back.
The organ music begins, and Mick’s eyes leave mine to face the front. I’ve got a firm grip on Kendra’s hand, and she’s more than happy to be my anchor in this storm.
The service starts, full of biblical excerpts, hymns, religious platitudes about death and resurrection, and somber remembrances by family, friends, players, and coaches. It’s followed by Terry’s burial in the adjacent Mountain View Cemetery, which most attend, and where I catch a heart-fueling glimpse of Jeremy and Vinny, other members of our ragtag friend group.
But the finality of Terry’s shiny black casket, next to the freshly dug hole where he’ll remain, snaps the last tether of my control, and I’m wracked with sobs.
As we make our way to the reception, my pulse rapid fires, roaring in ears as my nerve endings crackle with trepidation. This is where I’ll come face to face with Mick and Remy—possibly for the final time in my life. Then again, I never expected to see them again, and here we are. The universe has a cruel sense of humor at times.
Am I tempting fate?
Kendra and I detour to the ladies’ room to spruce up, our waterproof mascara unable to do the kind of heavy lifting required today.
And do I care what I look like? Undeniably so.
Look what you passed up, boys. Look and weep.
God, I’m pathetic.
Mourners pack the reception hall,with people vying to fill their plates at the extensive buffet or already sitting and talking. Their mingled murmurs sound like a roar in my ears.
“I’m going to get in line,” Kendra says, motioning to thebuffet.
Sweat trickles down my back. “I need some air. I’ll come find you.”
I’m not four feet into the hallway when a hand touches my forearm.
“Jacqui, wait.”
I whirl, coming face to face with blue eyes under cropped copper hair, and my body goes rigid.
