Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Esme’s been dead for twelve days, and it still doesn’t seem real. Ms. Sharon gave me a copy of the obituary for tomorrow’s service, and I’ve only now summoned the courage to open the program after sitting on my couch for hours.
As I scan over the pictures, a fresh wave of grief hits me. The first photo I notice is of us from our first day of fourth grade. We’re posing in front of Ms. Bidwell’s class with matching backpacks and identical-styled ponytails. There’s an innocence about us, a true bond between two little girls who couldn’t have been more different.
Another photo from one of Esme’s slumber parties catches my eye. She’d said something so hilarious that Coca-Cola shot out of my nose, making her laugh so hard she nearly teared up. Ms. Sharon captured the moment, snapping a picture of us doubled over in hysterics. A laugh escapes me at the memory, but it quickly turns into a broken sob. I take off my glasses, my hands shaking as I wipe my eyes. I can almost hear our laughter, the secrets we whispered, the dreams we shared, and the promises of a future that seemed to stretch out forever.
I toss the obituary and my glasses to the side, rubbing my tired eyes. It’s almost three in the morning, and I know I should try to get some sleep, but it’s been impossible lately. No matter how exhausted I am, I just lie there, my mind racing. And before I know it, minutes have turned into hours.
The service starts at 10:00 a.m., but Ms. Sharon wants me at her house by nine so I can ride with the family to the church. With a heavy sigh, I drag myself up from the sofa, turning off the lights as I head to the bedroom. I try to be quiet, not wanting to wake Victor, who’s staying the night, but as soon as I slip into my room, he stirs, pulling back the sheets for me.
“Sorry I woke you,” I whisper, climbing into bed beside him.
“I didn’t even hear you get up,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close, his bare chest warm against my back. My heart clenches painfully, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away the tears.
“I can’t sleep.” The thought of tomorrow looms over us, a suffocating weight in my bedroom. Seeing Esme’s body in a casket—can I handle that? I skipped the viewing today on purpose, not ready to face the reality of her death. But my dad went to pay his respects. He told me she looked like herself, as if she were just sleeping.
If only that were true. But when I see her body tomorrow, in the dress that I helped pick out, I’ll know that this is real and not just some never-ending nightmare.
Victor presses a gentle kiss to the back of my head, his arm tightening around me. I nestle into his embrace, desperately seeking comfort. Every moment, I’m reminded of Esme’s absence and the wreckage of our friendship, and it feels like the grief might swallow me up.
“We don’t have to sleep. We can talk if you want,” he says, breaking the silence.
“I don’t want to talk.” More like, I’m not ready to talk.
The mattress shifts as Victor lifts his head. “What about a movie?” he suggests.
I shake my head, turning to face him. Concern and sadness swim in his eyes. I know he’s hurting too, even though he tries to hide it, wanting to be strong for me.
“I don’t want to do that either,” I say, caressing his jaw.
His body relaxes under my touch as if it’s been wound up tight—the two weeks without us kissing or him being buried inside of me filling him with tension. A low groan escapes him when I press my mouth to his, my tongue flicking against his lips, seeking entrance.
Victor’s hand slides up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss. Rolling us over, he presses me into the mattress, and I respond by wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His lips trail down my neck, each kiss a whisper of desire against my skin. Craving more, I arch into him, hooking my arms around his neck. He feels so good against me, his hard cock grinding into me through our underwear.
For a second, it almost falls away—my grief, my guilt. But there’s a war of emotion in my head that I can’t run away from. Not even when Victor’s hand slips into my underwear, his fingers sliding between my wetness. As he rubs on my clit to pull an orgasm out of me, unwanted tears burst out of me instead. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, sobbing.
He immediately withdraws his hand, his focus shifting from seduction to comfort as he kisses all over my tear-drenched face. “It’s okay,” he soothes, gently rolling us over so that I’m on top of him, my head buried in his chest and my tears soaking his skin as he holds me close.
The overcast sky outside seems to mirror the heaviness of the day as we prepare for Esme’s funeral.
Esme’s funeral. Two words that shouldn’t go together.
It’s only fitting that it’s raining today, as if the heavens themselves are mourning the loss of my best friend. I’ve chosen a rose-pink dress to coordinate with the funeral colors of cream, pink, and gray. As I finish getting ready, Victor emerges from the bedroom wearing a gray suit.
“I’ll drop you off at Ms. Sharon’s so we can ride home together from the repast,” he says, shrugging on his jacket.
With the obituary tucked under my arm, I hesitate as I reach for my car keys on the table. “That’s okay. I’ll take my own car.”
Confusion flickers in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
I push my glasses up my nose, fidgeting as I struggle to find the right words. “I don’t think we should be seen together—out of respect.”
Based on my interactions with Esme’s family over the past two weeks, they know we had a falling out, but they don’t know the reason. Although some of Esme’s family were hesitant about my involvement in the service, Ms. Sharon insisted on my participation and that I sit with the family. She’s asked me to share a few happy memories of Esme, and saying no to her wasn’t an option, even though the thought of standing up there, in front of everyone, in front of her casket, makes me want to disappear. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get through it without breaking down, but I’ll do this—for Ms. Sharon, for Esme, and for our seventeen years of friendship.
If I show up with Victor, and we’re affectionate, some may speculate and gossip, wondering what really happened between us.
No, I can’t let that happen. I won’t let my actions cast a shadow over Esme’s memory or cause her family more pain. It’s not just about them, though; there’s a selfish reason behind my decision too. I’ve already lost the Davenports—something I’ve come to terms with, but I’m not ready to lose the Ryders too. Not yet. So even if it means keeping my distance from Victor today, pretending we’re nothing more than acquaintances, I’ll do it.
Victor’s expression closes off, a stark contrast to the slight smile that touches his lips. “Out of respect,” he repeats, almost to himself.
I study him to see if he really understands. “You’ve met her family. They know you’re her ex. So if we show up as a couple…”
He rubs his lips together pensively before nodding. “You’re right. Today is about Esme.”
Relief washes over me. “Thank you so much for understanding,” I say, my voice small.
A sad smile touches his lips. “I’ll see you there,” he says, coming closer for a kiss, one that lingers on my lips long after it’s over.
As we head outside, we pop open our umbrellas against the constant drizzle. The rain patters against the canopies as we hurry to our cars. Victor holds my umbrella over me as I struggle with my keys. Finally, I get the door unlocked. He keeps it propped open until I’m in, then hands me the wet umbrella. I toss it in the back seat before he shuts the door.
I turn the key, the engine humming to life, and press the button to lower my window. Victor leans in close, rain droplets clinging to his dark hair and suit. “Drive safe,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper, my heart constricting.
“I love you too.” He hesitates, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. “And I understand—why we can’t be together today. But I’ll see you tonight?” His voice lifts with hope.
The thought of being alone is unbearable. Blinking back tears, I take a shaky breath. “I’m meeting Liv at Harry’s tonight. It was our spot. It only feels right to…” My words trail off, my throat tightening. “But I’ll come by after.”
Victor’s eyes soften with understanding. “Of course. Just let yourself in. You still have the keycode, right?”
“I do,” I say, forcing a small smile.
Victor searches my face, but he already knows I’m barely holding it together. The guilt and grief of it all crushes me now more than ever. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead before stepping back. As he hurries to his own car, the storm rages harder, the wind whipping through the trees.
Squeezing the steering wheel, I slip my eyes shut, finding myself paralyzed. I don’t want to go, don’t want to face that Esme is gone and never coming back.