Page 13 of Dead Love

“My funeral director said that I had to come to retrieve my order from you personally, or that I had to find it myself. What better way than to ask your daughter about the rumored rare flower?”

His eyes landed on me again, setting every part of my body ablaze.

“I hope you understand, Mr. Erickson,” Shea said, squeezing my shoulders as if she could literally shield my body from him by keeping me in place. “But my daughter has a delicate composition. We prefer she doesn’t talk to strangers.”

“No need to explain,” Vincent said. “I understand the importance of treasuring something special.”

My mother’s body stiffened, but she forced a smile. “Thank you, sir. Now, we haven’t found the Middlemist Red, so I’m afraid you’ll have to tell that client that we’ll figure out another comparable flower.” She moved her body, standing in front of me. “You know, most clients will be satisfied with a rose.”

“I’ll speak with the family.” He turned to me, looking past my mother’s shoulder. “It was good to see you again.”

Shea watched him closely. “Likewise,” she said. He disappeared down the path, and she let out a harsh exhale.

My stomach clenched.

“Why were you talking to him?” Shea snapped.

“I—” I stammered, glancing at the torn petals in my palms, then quickly said, “He’s taking care of Nyla. I was asking about what he was doing to her.”

“He’s going to do what he always does,” Shea scowled. “Pump her with chemicals or burn her to ashes.

I clenched my fist. “Don’t talk about Nyla like that.”

“What?”

“You’re acting like she doesn’t matter. But she matters to me.” The tears burned inside of me, threatening to boil over. “She’s my friend,” I added in a quiet voice.

My mother sighed, then whispered, “Was.” She put a hand behind my head, pushing me into her shoulder, expecting me to sob, to seek comfort from her. My body tightened. I had no desire to hug her right then. “You can’t think of her like that anymore. Nyla is gone. This pain you feel?” She tapped my breastbone like it was the only place I could hold sorrow. “There’s no use for it. It’ll make everything worse, sweetheart, and you shouldn’t dwell on what you can’t change.”

If anyone understood that, it was my mother. She was right. I couldn’t bring Nyla back.

But I couldn’t move on without her. Not yet.

“I want to organize the funeral,” I said.

Her lips pressed into a fine line, suppressing a condescending smile. “That’s the funeral director’s job, sweetheart,” she said. “I don’t know if we can go, honestly. We’ve been so busy with the funerals lately, and something like that, it’s really too difficult for your temperament—”

“I want to celebrate her life, Mom.”

She gave me a quick smile, then tapped her lip. “In a funeral, all you do is say goodbye to the flesh and bones. But Nyla is still inside of you, sweetheart. You carry her memory with you everywhere. It’s—”

“I’m going to the funeral,” I said, raising my voice.

“What about Andrew?” She glanced around frantically. “What about the wedding? Your proposal? The greenhouse—”

Was she dangling that in front of me on purpose? “Don’t change the subject,” I warned.

Her lips flattened, all of her features tightening. The forced kindness vanished from her face. “Haven’t I taught you not to speak when you’re emotional like this?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m going to the funeral.”

“You have no idea what you’re committing to. What you’re committingusto. You can’t let these feelings take control of you.”

I grit my teeth together. She didn’t get it at all. How many more times did I have to say it?

“Iamgoing to the funeral,” I said, more determined than ever.

“And I need to protect you.”