Page 17

I stare at the receipt Tristan handed me as I stand in the church bathroom after we finish greeting all the people in line.

What a day.

I’m alone for the first time today.

I brush away a tear…and it isn’t because of the funeral I just attended.

Use it , he’d said to me in an exchange that was far, far too brief.

He was bigger than I remembered. He was always tall, but he tops out at six-five now…something I’m very familiar with since I’ve stalked him online for years. He’s lean and fit like always, but his chest is more expansive than I remember and his biceps are freaking barrels.

God, I want to lick them.

I want to see his abs. I want to see what’s a little south of his abs. I bet he’s got the sort of V-cut hips that make women drool.

Okay, fine…I know he does, also because of the internet stalking. I mean searching .

I sigh.

A phone number is scrawled on the paper in his familiar penmanship. I’d never forget that handwriting. Locked in a little box in my bedroom back at Mom and Dad’s house are all the notes he wrote me when we were together. All the silly hopes and dreams we had together that just— poof!— vanished when I did.

I slide the receipt into the pocket of my dress and smooth down the skirt. I glance in the mirror and fix some flyaway hairs.

And then I draw in a deep breath and head outside so we can get to the cemetery to bury my father.

Paul and Cam stand in the narthex, the only people still waiting inside. “I’m so sorry, Tessa, but we need to get back to Chicago,” Paul says.

“Of course.” I nod and move toward Paul for another hug. “Thank you both for coming. It means a lot.”

I hug Cam next, trying to keep it casual since Paul is standing right beside us. His fingers press into my back where Paul can’t see. It’s like a silent message of solidarity, like he’s letting me know he’s here for me despite the way we left things last week. It’s confusing, especially as Tristan plays in my mind. Especially as his phone number burns a hole in my pocket.

Paul turns to leave, and Cam gives me one last lingering glance before he follows behind. I take a few extra beats by myself in the quiet narthex as I glance over at the spot where Tristan Higgins hugged me less than an hour ago. The way he held me, the feelings that rushed through my entire being, the way butterflies flapped low in my belly and an ache pressed between my thighs…the way I felt like I was back home even though I’ve been home for the last few days—it’s all so confusing.

I didn’t feel those same things when Cam hugged me, and yet Cam seems to be the more likely candidate of who will appear in my future.

I shake it off. I’ll worry about it later.

My mom and I ride to the cemetery together in the back of a limo, and we say our final goodbyes. Neither of us cries.

We attend a banquet back in the church rec hall. My mom and I stick together as people come up to us to tell us stories about my father, and the more I hear, the more I realize he was the type of person who could be many different people all in one. He was my daddy as I grew up, but he was an absentee father to at least two other kids. He was the respected pastor of our church, but he was having affairs with women a few towns over.

I’m even starting to wonder why he was transferred out of Maple Park to Fallon Ridge, but I suspect it had something to do with all the details I’m learning about who he really was.

After the reception, I head back home with my mom. I offer to help her clean out some of my dad’s items, but she assures me she can take care of it.

“How long are you staying?” she asks me over dinner—just a can of soup split between the two of us since neither of us feels very hungry.

I glance out the window toward the Higgins’s house. “I should get back to Chicago. It’s hard on all of us when someone’s out of the office, so I know others are working hard to pick up the slack since I’ve been gone.”

“I’ll sure miss having you around here,” she says softly.

“I’ll try to get back here more often, Mom.” I press my lips together. I think subconsciously part of why I stayed away was because of my father.

“Can I ask you something?”

I glance up at her, my brows knit together. “What?”

“Do you ever think about what happened?”

I lift a shoulder and offer a sad smile. “Only every second of every day.”

“I suspected as much,” she murmurs. She shakes her head. “I don’t want to speak ill of him, honey, but I want you to know that I fought for you. I told him it was your right to decide. I told him he was only severing his relationship with you.”

“Why aren’t you and Sue close anymore?” I ask, ignoring her confession of what I already knew to be true in favor of getting to the bottom of why she isn’t as close to Tristan’s mom as she used to be.

She glances away from me in the same direction I was just looking. She lifts a shoulder. “She started pulling back. First she bowed out of book club. Then she left our pinochle group. But when she stopped coming to bingo, I knew something was going on.”

“Did you ask her?”

She nods. “Of course. She said she and Russell were traveling back and forth quite a bit to Vegas and she just didn’t have time. Around the same time, Russ told your father he wasn’t able to continue being part of their weekly foursome…again because of the travel. But I have my suspicions about what really happened.”

My brows dip. “What do you think it was?”

She sighs. “I think Bill got too close to Sue, and I think Sue and Russ have the sort of relationship where they tell each other those things. Easier to cut ties than to break up a decades-long marriage between the town pastor and his wife.”

I reach over and squeeze my mom’s hand. “Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry. What now?”

She shakes her head a little sadly. “I don’t know. I still have my job at the church as the children’s program director for now, but when they hire in a new pastor, I have no idea whether I’ll be replaced. I still have book club and pinochle and bingo, and starting next month I’ll help facilitate bingo on Wednesday nights.” She shrugs. “And my baking. I have plenty of things to keep me busy.”

“Will you be okay?” I ask quietly.

She lets out a little snort. “Yeah, baby girl. I’ll be fine. I’d never wish ill on him. He gave me you. But I finally feel…I don’t know. Free .”

I nod. I get it. It’s hard to admit it given the circumstances, but I feel it, too. Maybe it’s better to let history stay buried with him.