“Thank you.” I wondered if words could wear out from overuse.
“He was a great man, made from the same cloth as your grandfather. He’ll be missed.”
I shook the man’s hand, placing my other hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little.
Since when had it become the job of the bereaved to console everyone else at a funeral?
A hand landed on my shoulder. “Lior, we must schedule a meeting soon. Your father was overseeing an expansion into the European market, but they have stricter regulations there. Don’t worry. I’m happy to teach you the ropes on that front.”
I was sure he was, especially since any delays on the expansion would hit his pocket directly. Not that Warren Livingston needed the money. This was just another investment to add to his ever-growing fortune. Or so my father told me when he’d attempted to get me up to date with the business in his finalweeks before cancer really took over and made it impossible for him to work.
“Of course, Mr. Livingston. Get your secretary to book something with my father’s secretary. She’s overseeing my fath—um, my appointments.”
He tapped my back. “Sorry for your loss. Your father will be missed.”
“Thank you.”
I eyed up the bar and wondered if I could get to it without being stopped to console someone or having yet another meeting added to my schedule.
“How are you holding up, sir?” And there they were. The only words that were meant with true sincerity.
“Starting to wonder why I’m the one holding the Kleenex box, Charlie.”
“He was a well-liked man.”
I snorted, gaining a disapproving look from someone whose name I vaguely remembered. “Funny how everyone seems to think they knew him.”
“That’s always the way, sir.” He turned to face me, whispering imperceptibly. “One nod, and I’ll put the exit plan in motion.”
“Thank you.”
I needed a drink to get through this, and since my mother was clearly hiding somewhere, I couldn’t exactly leave.
“Lior.”
I froze on my way to the bar. If I’d thought I needed a drink a moment ago, now I needed the whole bottle.
“Pierce. What are you doing here?” My attempt at a detached voice and cold expression had been achieved, judging by the look on his face. I’d take it as my first win of the day.
“I figured you might need a friendly face today.”
“What makes you think that?” I wouldn’t go so far as saying my ex’s face was friendly or the one I wanted to see on the day of my father’s funeral.
“Can we put our stuff behind us for a moment? I liked your dad, and I’m here to support you.”
“Out of respect for my dad, you can stay, but lose the pretense. We’re too old for that shit.” I smiled at a woman passing who’d overheard me swear. “It’s such a sad day. My mouth is running away from me.”
“Understandable, dear,” the woman said. “Funerals are fucking depressing. More so when you’re at the age when people look at you, wondering if you’re going to be next.”
My kind of girl. How could I resist?
I took her hand and wrapped it around my arm. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“It’s a free bar. Letmeshow a young man a good time.”
Pierce called my name as we walked away, but I ignored him.
The bartender came over as soon as we approached.
