hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.
I glance at Chase beside me, hoping for even the smallest connection, but he’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his face contorted with irritation. As the congregation’s voices rise around us, he pulls at his tie like it’s a noose, muttering under his breath. I reach for his hand, a quiet plea for solidarity in our grief, but he pulls away to scratch his neck. My stomach knots. He’s always been this way—restless, unable to sit with discomfort—but today, of all days, it feels like a slap.
During the priest’s blessing, my mind drifts, unbidden, to Alex. I can’t help but think about how he would’ve handled a moment like this. He was always the steady one—the kind of man who instinctively knew how to comfort Isabelle in her darkest moments. He never had to be asked or reminded; he simply showed up, fully present, fully attentive. The way he’d reach for her hand during difficult times, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, a quiet reassurance that she wasn’t alone.
I glance at Chase again. He adjusts his watch now, tapping the face like he’s timing how long this service will take. The ache in my chest deepens. How did we get here? How did I go from dreaming about a future with this man to barely being able to sit beside him without feeling the sharp edges of disappointment?
“And now,” Reverend John continues, “The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of His Son Jesus Christ our Lord;and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always. Amen.”
Amen.
“If you will please proceed to the burial grounds across the way, we will lay to rest our beloved brother and sister. Let us go forth in the name of Christ.”
Thanks be to God.
“Thanks be to God this service is fucking over,” Chase snipes, adjusting his tie before looking around the sanctuary at everyone waiting patiently for the pallbearers to carry both caskets down the aisle and out of the church.
I look at him, narrowing my eyes at the audacity of this man. “Really, Chase?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice down. “My best friend just lost her sister and brother-in-law—people who, I might add, we had dinner with weekly—and all you have to say is ‘thank God that’s over’?!”
Rolling his eyes, Chase chastises, “Calm your tits, Tor, it’s fucking hot in here and that service was an hour longer than it should have been.”
“Will you stop using that word in the sanctuary?!” I hiss. Another eye roll.
People have started filing out of their respective pews—not quickly enough for Chase, if his grumbling is any indication—and I decide I’ve had enough of him for one day. My heart is heavy, two of my favorite people are dead, my best friend just lost her other half, and I do not have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with my own husband’s selfishness right now.
“I’m going to see if Alis needs any help with Sunny,” I say, slinging my purse strap over my shoulder and turning to exit our row.
“Whatever. I’ll just meet you at the gravesite.” At least he didn’t make some shitty comment about me giving my attention to someone besides him.
Without saying another word to him, I exit the pew and walkto the front of the sanctuary, hugging Alis’s parents before stepping up beside her to squeeze her shoulder.
“Hey, babe, need help?”
Skye is right behind me—where was she even sitting? I saved her a seat and didn’t see her until right now.
“Hey,” Alis sighs. The grief and exhaustion on her face are palpable. “Could you prepare her bottle? I need to check her diaper.”
I nod and start rifling through the diaper bag for Sunny’s bottle and formula while Alis gets to work changing Sunny. Skye makes some stupid comment that elicits a chuckle from Alis, and I’ve never been more thankful for a moment of levity.
