Finn is facing me, so he sees me first. He breaks away at the same time Laine and Brady turn around.
In three long strides, Finn reaches me. He pulls me into his arms and places a warm, supportive hand on the back of my head.
“Tell me something I’ll never believe,” I whisper into his neck.
“Quail mate for life,” he whispers back to me.
I look up at him. My heart hammers in my chest. He’s so close, and he’s warm and familiar. It’s everything I need in this moment.
“My love,” Laine’s voice is suddenly in my ear. Stepping away from Finn, I turn right into Laine’s arms.
“You finally cried,” she says, her tone relieved.
I pull back, shaking my head and wiping my eyes, even though no tears have fallen in twenty minutes. “Probably not for why you think.” I glance at Brady, into his curious eyes, and my heart melts a little. “Why did everybody love her? Why was she so wonderful to everyone but me? I was herdaughter.”
Brady purses his lips and looks away as if even speaking about it angers him.
“Because she was fucking fake, Lennon. She might have done all the shit those people” —Finn jams a finger in the direction of the sanctuary—“say she did, but there was something else inside her she showed only to you. And it wasn’t about you at all. It was about her. Remember that.” Finn’s voice is strong, his meaning reverberating through his words. He’s defending me, and it feels amazing.
“You only have to get through this luncheon, and then it’s over.” Brady’s gentle voice, in such contrast to Finn’s, washes over me.
“You don’t have to go at all,” Finn says.
Brady shoots him a warning glance.
“What?” Finn asks him, his tone challenging. “She doesn’t.”
“It’s tradition.”
Finn shrugs. “So?”
Brady sighs and lowers his chin, head shaking.
“I’ll go.” I place my hand on Finn’s forearm. “Brady’s right.”
Finn says nothing, instead reaching around me and steering me in the direction of the reception room.
* * *
Casseroles everywhere.Deviled eggs, which made me laugh. Fruit salad, potato salad, macaroni salad. Sandwiches. Cupcakes I’m certain are store-bought. Not that I care. I don’t have an appetite right now.
The four of us sit on one side of a round folding table covered in a white tablecloth; the other half is taken up by two older couples, all of whom have been asking me polite questions about my life since I moved away. They are nice, but cautious. Which is to be expected.
David approaches our table and asks me for a word. He leads me out of the room and down the hall to a set of chairs. Other than a rowdy cowlick at the crown of his head, his hair is perfectly styled.
“Great sermon,” I say, settling beside him on a yellow slip-covered chair.
He eyes me dubiously. “I get the feeling you’re being sarcastic, but thank you.”
Maybe I was being sarcastic. I’m not sure. It seemed like an appropriate thing to say to him, although I definitely didn’t mean it.
“I noticed an abundance of deviled eggs on the buffet table. Are those allowed in here?” I can’t help my smirk.
He narrows his eyes, but his mouth is upturned. “Now Iknowyou’re being sarcastic.”
Raising my hand, I make a pinching gesture with my pointer finger and thumb. “Just a little bit.”
“You’re funny. I never thought I’d have a funny sister. Or a sister at all.”
