Our fingers twine and I take a sobering breath.
“My room should be ready tomorrow,” I tell him. “Jason and Jill had a long talk with Isla. If she wants to live with them, she has to give me my room back.”
Wilder pulls me close and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “I’m going to miss having you in my bed every night.”
“Ew,” Cash says. Loudly.
“I’m going to miss it, too,” I return as my free hand runs the length of his arm.
“You two can shack up in a few months in New York,” Cash interrupts. “I’m literally giving you the room to yourselves this evening. Don’t make it weird.”
“We will always make it weird,” Wilder says before kissing me again.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.
But tonight?
I know exactly where I’ll be.
In Wilder’s arms.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Funeral Fiasco
Wilder
I’ve never been to a funeral before. I didn’t even own black socks until two hours ago. I’m unprepared.
But I’m here.
Ingrid holds my hand as we walk up the damp concrete walkway to the church.
It’s a small brick building on the edge of town lined with red rosebushes.
On the outside, it doesn’t look so intimidating, but inside?
That’s a whole different story.
There’s a picture of Margot sitting at the front, her charcoal black urn displayed on a small, makeshift stage. There’s lots of flowers. All different colors and varieties. If I had to guess, I’d say Elowyn chose every flower possible.
And then I wonder if our father was there to pick with her.
Or did he leave her to carry all of this alone?
Did I?
“We should say hello to your sister,” Ingrid suggests somberly.
There’s a crowd that’s gathered in the far corner. They look like Margot. Probably her family.
Other than me, I don’t see anyone from my father’s side of the family. Not any of his brothers, their wives, or my cousins.
When he wrote me off, it looks like they wrote him off, too.
But Elowyn.
Another thing we both missed out on because of his choices.
