I originally planned on marking the day by saying yes to everything I could.
But I can’t shake the feeling there’s a reason I offered to go with Hayden. That it’s important I be there today.
Pushing out a long sigh, I reach for the most conservative item of clothing I own — a red-and-blue floral dress that hits mid-thigh. It’s not funeral black, but it’s clean, ironed, and doesn’t scream beach day.
After slipping on the dress, I take a minute to put on some eyeliner and lip gloss. Then I pull on knee-high black boots and shrug into my denim jacket before slinging my bag over my shoulder.
When I step into the living room, Presley’s eyes immediately go to me. She launches herself at me, her small arms wrapping around my waist with surprising force.
I steady myself and give her a reassuring rub on her back.
She releases me and signs,Are you coming?
“I am.”
She hugs me again, tighter this time, like she’s afraid I might change my mind. As I give her another squeeze, my gaze lifts and collides with Hayden, who’s studying us from across the room.
There’s something different about the way his eyes linger on me today. Something unguarded. It sends a rush of sensation through me I can’t name.
Excitement, maybe?
No. Absolutely not.
I’m about to go to his dead wife’s memorial, for crying out loud.
Probably just nerves. Or guilt. Or the fact that I’m about to walk into a church for the first time in my life under questionable circumstances.
“We should get going,” Hayden announces, tearing his gaze from mine as he lifts Jemmy.
I grab Presley’s hand and follow him out the door.
The car ride is mostly quiet. Jemmy fills the silence with his running commentary — trees, trucks, dogs, truck again. His voice grows particularly excited when we pass the fire station. The bay doors are open, revealing a pristine red fire engine.
“Finn. Truck,” he announces excitedly.
It doesn’t matter that his uncle is on the fire department and lets him play on the fire trucks at least once a week.
Jemmy’s eyes always light up when he sees them.
He may like them more than dinosaurs, and that’s saying something.
“Yes, buddy,” Hayden replies, his voice distant. “That’s Uncle Finn’s special truck.”
I consider making small talk to cut through the heavy atmosphere in the car. But one glance at Hayden’s profile as he drives — jaw tight, eyes fixed straight ahead — tells me this isn’t the time to chat about how nice the weather is.
So I stay quiet and watch the town roll by.
After a few more minutes, the church comes into view, and he pulls into the parking lot. I look up at the imposing building, fidgeting with my hands in my lap.
“Are you okay?” Hayden asks as he kills the ignition.
“Fine. I just…” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “I’ve never been in a church before. How am I supposed to act?”
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Just be yourself.”
That doesn’t feel reassuring, but I nod anyway, stepping out of the car and helping Presley, giving her a comforting smile. With her hand clasped in mine, we head into the church together.
The second we cross the threshold, the nervous butterflies dance in my stomach once more. If they ever stopped. Everything about this place feels off. And not just because I’ve always had a questionable relationship with any sort of organized religion. But it feels…heavy.
