5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Malcolm
A s I tighten my tie, I’m trying to talk myself out of going, but I can’t. It’s not my business, it’s not my place. Hell, it’s not even my family. Nonetheless, I’m putting on my funeral suit, because, as much as a fool as I am for doing it, I’m going to Steph’s granny’s funeral. To be honest, it’s partly for extra security. Uncle Dougall is not allowing us to provide them with security while they’re bidding their granny adieu, and as much as it sucks, that’s where us Harris boys come in. Declan is going as well, and, for good measure.
“You know that my da is going to chop our nuts off, right?” Declan says, as he enters my office, all dressed to go.
“It’ll be worth it. Especially if that murdering asshole Callum is stupid enough to show up.”
“He won’t. But he may be watching from afar.” I surmise, tucking my arm into my suit jacket.
“Or he may have hired someone to do the same.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
And just as he says this, Uncle Dougall walks in, without knocking first. He takes one look at the both of us, and knows exactly what’s going on. I brace myself for him to tear us a new one. But instead, he softens. “I’m sending Rory with you.”
“Rory?” I ask, confused, since he’s a pilot, even though I know that he also doubles as security.
“I’m not going to stop you two from going, especially you, Declan, since this is to support your lass, Moira. But, you, Malcolm. I don’t quite understand why you’re going. I know that you’re into this Steph lass, but I didn’t think that you were that into her. Have you bedded her yet?”
My teeth grate together. I hate it when Uncle Dougall asks such questions. He has no shame whatsoever. “No.” Is all I say.
“But you want to.” He clarifies.
“Yes, he wants to, da.” Declan answers for me, and I don’t know which would make me want to punch him more. If he stayed quiet and let me get into it, or if he answered for me, which he did.
“My brother wouldn’t be very happy with me if I didn’t protect his son.” Dougall adds.
I decide to keep quiet and just let that comment simmer. Uncle Dougall pats us both on the shoulder before walking to the door. “Rory will be ready for you.”
“Thanks, da.” Declan states.
He just nods and walks out of my office.
“Moira knows you’re coming?” I ask Declan.
“Aye.” He replies, looking at his phone. “Did you tell Steph that you were coming?”
I don’t want to let it slip about anything, including the picture that she sent, so I just shake my head no.
“And you don’t think that she’ll think that’s weird? You just showing up?”
“Nah.” I wave nonchalantly.
“And...why do you want to be there, anyway?”
I give him a look. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Moira and Steph have both been through a trauma. And regardless of what happens between me and Steph, she’s still my friend. I’d be pissed if my friend didn’t show up to my granny’s funeral.”
It’s hard to tell if he buys it or not, and at this point, I don’t really care. He’s not fighting me on going, he’s not refuting, so I just leave it at that.
My eyes are first on Rory as we arrive inside the funeral home. First and foremost is our safety, and the girls’ safety, never mind our feelings for each other. And I know that Uncle Dougall would call us both fools if we didn’t get a feel for things prior to just walking in unannounced. Well, I’m unannounced, that is. The place is packed with the elderly, which is expected, considering that this is a funeral for Steph and Moira’s granny. Many are in wheelchairs, some with walkers, but still, some are mobile.
I see Steph over talking to some woman that looks like she belongs on an episode of The Real Housewives, while Moira is on the other side of the room, speaking with what looks like the funeral director. The casket is closed, thank God, and it lies on a stand, at the front center of the room, covered in a spray of white roses. I get a chill up my spine. I always hated that type of flower, for they always remind me of funerals. A large photograph of Leery sits on an easel next to the casket, and it’s a younger version of her, clearly a wedding photograph, as she’s in a white gown, and the photo is black and white.
“One thing we can feel confident in is that there’s no way Callum is here.” Declan says under his breath.
“Aye. Unless he’s disguised as a senior citizen.” I agree, noting that we are the only men in this room. There are literally no other males in our company.
“I thought that ol’ Leery would be popular with the lads.” Declan teases.
“Gross.” I wince. “Let’s go pay our respects so we can duck out right after the funeral. These places give me the creeps.”
“What...do you think that I want to break out into dance here?” He hisses. And that’s when Moira comes out and sees him. As she comes his way, Steph catches sight of her cousin, and suddenly I’ve been discovered. She excuses herself from the lady that looks like she’s got a plastic face and comes over to join us.
“Hey.” Steph almost whispers to me. “What are you doing here?” Her face is unreadable. I’m not sure if she expected me to come, or if she’s reading something entirely different into this.
“Well, I thought...I thought that I would come and pay my respects.”
Steph swallows. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Aye, but I wouldn’t have felt right if I didn’t.”
Her gaze is over by who I’m guessing is her mama, since there is a striking resemblance. “So, this was to save your soul, was it.”
“Not exactly. Maybe to save yours.” I challenge.
Her glance is icy. “I don’t need saving.”
Moira and Declan are conversing privately, and then I watch Moira take him over to meet the plastic-faced lass. I ignore her comment. “Is that Moira’s mama?”
“Aye. And that’s mine over there, so I’ll thank you for keeping your comments to yourself.”
“I hadn’t planned on making any others.”
“Good.” She hisses.
“Was it a mistake coming here, Steph? Do you want me to leave?” Just as I ask that, her mama approaches. Steph looks like she would rather be any place else but here.
“Don’t say a word.” She growls through gritted teeth.
“Give me a little credit, lass.” I mutter under my breath.
The woman, that strikes a resemblance to Steph, has red-rimmed eyes and is carrying a small handkerchief in her hand. She manages a weak smile and holds out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Cindy, Stephanie’s mama. Thank you for coming.”
“Mama, this is Malcolm Harris.” Steph says, pasting on a kind smile, I’ll assume that it’s for her mama’s benefit, not mine.
“Oh, are you Declan’s brother?” Cindy asks.
“Cousin, actually. There are a lot of us.” I correct politely.
She grins at me. “I see. Well, thanks all the same for coming, and for paying your respects to my dear mama.”
“You’re welcome, lass.” I nod once, going for gallant.
“Excuse me.” Cindy states, moving on to the next introduction. I’ll assume that she’s already been acquainted with Declan, or at least shes knows who he is.
I turn to Steph. “See? I can be civilized.”
She speaks through gritted teeth. “Fine. You’ve made your point. Now leave.”
“I’m staying for the funeral, Steph. I’ve got my cousin and Rory here, and my Uncle Dougall is expecting us to stay, so I am, regardless of whether or not you approve.”
“God, you are such a pussy.” She hisses.
“Are we back to that again.” I comment under my breath. “Look, can’t you just retract your claws for an hour.”
She pulls the cuff of my suit jacket, guiding me to the hallway, away from earshot. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to pull, but you have no business being here, Malcolm.”
“What is wrong with you? Can’t a guy show respect? Do you really have that little confidence in men, Steph? Who the hell has bit you in the past? I’d like fucking names.” My voice is direct, almost a squeak I’m so adamant, and my eyes are all over her face, trying like hell to read her. But it’s impossible. She’s like a Rubik's Cube. Only experts can crack this lass’s code.
“Malcolm, now is not the time to analyze me, okay.” She says, taking it down to brass tacks, using a tone I’ll assume is reserved for the sharks she deals with in business.
“I’m not analyzing you, Stephanie. Look, regardless of what sort of...tension there is between us...your granny passed, and I know about it. Therefore, I should be here to pay my respects. Think of us as friends.” I use a somewhat condescending tone, to let her know that she’s being ridiculous. “If you knew that your friend’s granny passed away, you’d be there for the funeral, right?”
“You have no business being here.”
“If it helps, pretend that I’m here for Moira then, okay.” I mutter under my breath, walking away from her.
She grabs my sleeve again and pulls me into the coat room, which is the first door on our right. She closes it and sets her back to it, preventing anyone from coming in without pushing her out of the way first. “What the...fuck!” I growl, not sure what to expect.
Her lips crush on mine as she forces her tongue inside my mouth. My cock instantly wakes up, and it’s just thanks to God that I jerked off recently, otherwise I don’t know how I would push her away. I let her kiss me voraciously, letting her get it out of her system, but I make no move to her. It takes her five seconds to realize that I’m not reciprocating. With a wounded and surprised expression on her face, she pulls back. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you fucking gay or something?”
My cock is pulsing under my zipper. I’d bet a million dollars that she can feel it, too. “You and I both know that that is impossible lass.”
“Then...why...what is your problem?” She’s sexually frustrated. I’m sexually frustrated, too.
“I’m not going to take you here. Not at your granny’s funeral, and not in a fucking coat closet, Steph. It isn’t right. We’ll both live to regret it.” I want to add ‘you mean more to me than that’, but I refrain, since she looks like she may slap me.
Her nostrils flare. Her chest heaves. “You really are a fucking pussy, Malcolm.”
“Look, do you think that I enjoy this? You think that I like being fucking teased like this, do you? If you want to fuck around, then let’s do it right, okay? You come to my place tonight and we’ll fuck like rabbits all night long, okay? Then maybe we can get past this whole psychotic game of yours, Stephanie!” I don’t mean to reject her yet again, but this is sick. We’re in a fucking funeral home for chrissake.
She says nothing. Her face says it all. This has put the nail in the casket, pardon the pun. She smooths her suit and hair, opens the door, and walks out, looking at me with venom in her eyes.
“Well, that ought to do it.” I say on exhale, through a soft grunt, as I watch her walk back down the hall, and I follow not so closely behind. Declan appears to be looking for me, and when he sees me, he motions me over.
“Where the fuck were you? I’ve got Rory scouting the place out.” He whispers. There’s an edge to his voice.
“Never mind that. Let’s go take our seats and get this over with.” I growl softly.
“Uh oh.” Declan says, catching on. He sends a text to Rory as we head back into the chapel and take our seats. Rory appears a minute later, and he takes a seat on the other side of Declan. The service starts up. Thankfully, we’re in the back, and out of sight, because the sermon lasts well over twenty minutes. I actually catch myself nodding off a few times.
I lean to my right and whisper in Declan’s ear. “When I die, cut to the chase, man. ‘You’re dead. We’ll see you on the other side’, and done.”
Declan smiles behind his hand. Then, making matters worse, an old lady, I’m gathering from the old age home, gets up and sings a psalm horribly. Her voice is shaky and weak, and I swear I can hear Leery inside the casket telling her to shut the fuck up. I’m so bored that when Declan asks me under his breath what happened with me and Steph, I almost consider explaining. “What was that, a broom closet?”
“Coat.”
“You weren’t in there long enough to do the deed, even for you, so what did she say to you?”
“None of your fucking business, loser.”
He raises his hands. “Fine. I just thought I’d pass the time.”
“I’m glad that my life is just filler for you, fuck head.”
He rolls his eyes, and that’s when the pastor makes us bow our heads in prayer. I nearly nod off again, but I’m pleasantly relieved when he says that this service has now come to a close. “Thank fucking Christ.” Declan states.
“I’ll tell Moira you said that.”
Another eye roll. “You do and I’ll tell her that you and Steph were alone in the closet together.”
I smirk, unimpressed. “Fine. We’re even.”
We stay put, while the guests ahead of us file out first. “We’re not going to the fucking burial, are we?” I check.
“There isn’t one. She’s being cremated and Moira is sending her ashes back to Scotland.” Declan explains.
I’m facetious. “Great. There’s another trip home that we’ll all get to enjoy.”
As guests file out of the chapel, I watch Steph bid each of them adieu, and her eyes scan over to mine, but she manages to keep the ire out of her glance in between being hospitable to her granny’s friends and family. When it’s our turn to approach, Declan gives me a teasing look, almost daring me to lean down and kiss her on the cheek, as everyone else has done. Indulging him, I do, and Steph is mature enough to allow me to do so. I’m not sure if it’s because her mama is standing right there or not, but I’ll soon find out.
We drive back to work, with Rory in the driver’s seat, and Declan looks at me. “So, she pulled you into the coat closet, you say?” He’s playing a game. One where he hopes to catch me off guard, acting like I already told him what happened. It’s his sharpest tactic, and he uses it a lot in the office. It’s clever, but, fortunately, I’m on the ball more than most.
“I told you it’s none of your fucking business, asshole.” I say on exhale, unimpressed.
Rory looks at me through the rear view mirror. “I didn’t see any signs of the dipshit there.”
“Good. He’d be stupid to show up.” Declan states amicably. Then he looks at me. “You’re lucky he wasn’t hiding out in the closet.”
I chuckle, smiling. “Fuckoff.”
“He’s right, you know.” Rory agrees, but he’s a little troublemaker, too, and he often likes to jump on dogpiles when Uncle Dougall isn’t around, when he can let down his guard slightly.
“Aye. I’d be ready for him.” I tell them with a wink.
“So, what did she do? Did she give you shit for coming? I could tell by her face that she was pissed.”
“That among other things.” I tell them, throwing them a bone.
Declan glares at me. Evidently, it’s painful for him to not be in the know. “Whatever happened, I’m going to find out about it, anyway, through Moira, so you might as well tell me.”
“God, you are such a fucking zygote, idiot.” I chuckle mirthlessly. “If you really want to know, she stuck her tongue down my throat and tried to fuck me, but I pushed her off me, told her it was fucking sick to do it there...that’s why she’s pissed.”
“Why didn’t you just do the deed, man? That decrepit old pastor would have waited for her to return before going off on his religious tirade.” Declan states.
“Because I don’t want to do that...with her...there.” I say carefully, feeling like they’re both staring me down. All that’s missing is the goddamn hundred-watt bulb lamp like they have in an interrogation room.
Rory lifts a brow at me. “Is it just because it’s sick and twisted to fuck at a funeral, or is it because you really have something for this lass?”
Declan speaks for me, pissing me off. “Both.”
I look at my cousin, and I want so badly to tell him that he’s wrong.
...but he’s not.