“Wouldn't a late afternoon flight suffice?” Carol suggested gently. “We could try to move your interview up a few hours.”
“No. The funeral is in the early afternoon. It’s nearly a six-hour flight.”
“But… the interview is tomorrow,” John insisted, his tone growing more urgent. “The entire board has confirmed. Some are cutting their own trips short specifically for you.”
“And I am sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Holloway.”
“It’s not about disappointment,” he countered, frustration edging his voice. “It’s about feasibility. Rescheduling with this many senior staff… it may not be possible.”
“Again, my apologies.” I kept my voice level, but my resolve was solid. “But as you told me when you left for Christmas, family is the most important thing. I will not abandon my brother at a time like this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have flights to book.”
As I walked away, I could hear Carol and John murmuring about a missed opportunity, a chance I might never get again.
At any other time, their words would have filled me with dread. But the loss of a family member—someone so young, a life that defied the natural order—put everything into a stark, clear perspective. It forced me, once again in a short period, to rethink my priorities.
And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, more important to me than being with my brother.
Chapter Thirty
EVELYN
We managed to get an early morning flight. The girls slept most of the way, and when they woke, we did our best to explain what had happened to an aunt they had never met, using the simplest, gentlest words we could find. It was obvious to me that even this—the fact of their unfamiliarity with his family—pained Logan with a fresh wave of guilt.
Camila picked us up at the airport, and I gave her a long, tight hug. She was deeply shaken. I knew she had loved Bonnie dearly and had always held onto hope for her recovery. The truth was, no one had expected the complications from a surgery that was supposed to be one of the final steps in her treatment.
From the airport, Camila drove us to Logan's apartment. After we dropped our things off, she left for her mother-in-law's house to pick up Alice. The four ofus ordered lunch for the girls—neither Logan nor I had any appetite.
A practical problem arose: the girls owned nothing black. Their wardrobes were a reflection of their strong personalities and well-defined tastes—predominantly blue for Anna and pink for Aurora, a preference their mother had clearly respected. We scrambled and managed to find two pairs of jeans, white sneakers, a gray blouse with pink accents for Aurora, and a navy blue one for Anna. It was the closest we could get to somber.
After getting them ready, we showered and dressed ourselves. We left the apartment and headed straight for the cemetery.
At the wake, Trinity was practically clinging to her granddaughter, Alice, and insisted that Anna and Aurora stay close to her as well. Logan sat in the front row beside Michael and a devastated Sebastian, his brother's sobs wracking his shoulders as Logan held him. I sat a few rows back with Camila, holding my best friend's hand while she cried, her head resting on my shoulder.
Besides family and close friends, a few journalists were present, taking photos. I found it intrusive, but the Turners seemed accustomed to it, a silent testament to the public nature of their lives.
“This is so unfair, Evy…” Camila repeated, her voice thick with tears.
“I know, Cami. I know.”
There wasn't much else to say. The tradition of speeches began. Bonnie's father spoke first, though he couldn't finish. Her mother, like Sebastian, was unable to speak. Trinity and Michael said a few words, as did some of Bonnie's friends. It was a long, heavy ceremony.
When it ended, people began to stand and disperse into small, murmuring groups. Camila moved away to collect Alice from her grandmother.
I remained, my gaze drifting to the three brothers. Sebastian was broken, his head bowed, his body trembling with anguish as Michael and Logan flanked him, their hands on his back in silent, steadfast support.
My attention was pulled away by a flicker of movement near a cluster of trees. At first, I glanced absently, assuming it was a latecomer or someone visiting another grave. It took less than a second for recognition to slam into me.
He was much thinner, his beard grown out, but I would have known him anywhere.
A cold wave of pure fear washed through me. Our breakup had been tumultuous, but I'd never felt this specific, primal dread for Peter before. Something in him had shifted; I'd heard it in his voice during our last call. Seeing him in person, that change was terrifyingly evident.
He stopped behind a tree, turning his head just enough to lock eyes with me. He raised his hand, showing me the cell phone he held, and gave it a little shake before bringing it to his ear.
At that exact moment, my phone vibrated in my purse.
I walked quickly away from the chairs, putting distance between myself and the mourners before answering. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“I saw the news about your fake boyfriend’s sister-in-law. I had a feeling you’d show up.”
