19. Sawyer #2
But now, after reading those texts, after seeing pity written all over her, I want to yank her hand away and slap that look off her face. She doesn’t deserve to be up there with Owen’s family. She hasn’t earned that. Not like I have.
“Come on, honey,” Mom says quietly, giving me a small push forward as the line moves. “Almost there.”
I force my legs to obey, climbing the church steps one by one. Each step brings me closer to them. The urge to turn and run grows stronger the closer I get. But I can’t. Everyone’s watching, judging, waiting to see if David Thorne’s daughter will fall apart.
I refuse to give that to them.
Victoria sees us approaching. Her lips form a straight line before she remembers where she is and corrects herself.
She mastered the perfectly calibrated expression of distress mixed with decorum after the scandal.
There’s something else about her now. Maybe it’s the slow way she sways her arm, or her posture slipping with each greeting.
She’s medicated. Has to be. I don’t blame her.
Most people couldn’t stand here, greeting hundreds of people at their son’s funeral, without pharmaceutical help. Especially the Ashford elite.
I know she’s grieving. Her love for her son wasn’t an act, but she won’t let the public see her break down. She’s too strong for that. Or maybe too numb.
“Sawyer.” She steps forward, opening her arms.
I move into the hug because what else can I do?
Maybe if I close my eyes, I can pretend she’s the same Victoria who would braid my hair after a day of swimming, or sneak me extra candy when Mom went on a health kick.
She taught me to shave my legs when Mom said I was too young, bought me my first little black dress, and told me I was the daughter she always wanted.
All that was before. It’s hard to see the same woman now, just as I’m sure she doesn’t see me the same either.
The hug is exactly as expected—stiff and brief, her hands barely touching my back, her body rigid against mine. When she pulls away, her smile doesn’t reach her covered eyes.
“Thank you for coming,” she says, like I’m a guest at a charity event instead of the woman who her son was going to marry.
“Of course,” I manage.
I glance toward Knox, and find his eyes already on me. My stomach clenches.
“Victoria,” Mom says with a curt nod, waiting to pull me inside the church.
Richard turns to us, hand on Victoria’s elbow. “Sawyer.” His eyes flick to mom, and his face goes carefully neutral. “Helen.”
“Richard,” Mom says.
There’s a long moment of awkward silence that feels like decades. Knox’s gaze burns into my skin the entire time, but I don’t let myself look at him again. Not when I’m barely keeping my shit together.
“There’s room at the family pew, Sawyer,” Victoria says, her speech slurring just enough that I notice. “And at the family table, afterward, if you’d like.”
Richard stiffens beside her, but doesn’t object.
I know she’s not sincere. Her invitation is for show, the proper thing to do for the grieving girlfriend. If she meant it, she would have involved me from the start, would have called me instead of sending a generic text.
I glance past her at the small cluster of family members gathered near the church entrance.
Aunts and uncles I’ve met once or twice at large family gatherings.
There’s Hailey, Richard’s daughter from his first marriage, holding a fussy baby on her hip, while her husband shakes hands with someone in an expensive suit.
And Ella, still standing too close to Knox.
“Uh,” I begin, tearing my gaze away from Ella. “I don’t want to leave my mom alone.”
Victoria touches my shoulder, completely ignoring that my mom’s even a person standing next to me. “Of course. I understand.”
She doesn’t understand. She’s relieved.
“We should find seats,” Mom says.
I let her guide me past the Aldrichs, directly in front of Knox. I meet his gaze, I can’t help it. My eyes find his like magnets, and the pain written across his face is so raw it steals my breath.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Ella’s hand slides down his arm to his hand, squeezing, and whatever he was going to say dies.
I tear my gaze away and follow Mom into the church before I do something stupid.
Being back inside St. Mary’s with its gorgeous stained glass windows and dark wooden beams, the smell of incense and candle wax strong even in the large open space, hits me with a wave of nostalgia. But above those are the scents of flowers.
That’s when I let myself look at the front of the church, past all the people shuffling into pews.
Right there, front and center, before the altar, underneath the massive crucifix, is Owen’s casket.
Dark cherry wood with brass handles, covered in white roses and lilies, so many that I’m surprised I didn’t smell them from outside.
I’m thankful Mom’s hand is on me, because the second I see it, my legs almost give out.
There’s his senior picture again, blown up and displayed on a large easel.
It’s all too much. Too unbelievable.
Tears stream down my cheeks before I’m able to stop them.
Owen is in there.
Owen, who used to make me laugh until I cried, who made me terrible chicken soup when I got sick, and loved harder than anyone in this world.
Owen, who I kissed hours before he died, not knowing it would be the last time.
Mom steers us toward a pew, right behind the family area. I don’t argue, even though I’d rather be farther in the back to give myself some space. People are already whispering around us as they fill in the pews.
“Such a tragedy.”
“I heard the accident killed…”
“Wonder World—Yeah. Can you believe…”
My hands start to shake. I press them flat against my thighs, twisting the ring around my finger beneath my purse. Mom notices and gives my forearm a squeeze.
The murmurs quiet as the Aldrich family enters. Victoria and Richard first, the former clinging to her husband’s arm. Hailey follows with her husband and baby, the infant starting to fuss as they sit. And then Knox, with Ella’s hand tucked into the crook of his arm.
They slide in, ending up directly in front of me, between an empty pew. God, Knox looks so exhausted and it hasn’t even started yet. He massages the back of his neck, the tension visible there, before setting his hand on his lap.
Through the crack in the pew I watch Ella place her hand over his. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into her more.
I look away before jealousy strangles me completely.
A woman slides in next to Mom. I only notice her because of the ridiculously large black hat she’s wearing.
She settles her purse on the pew next to her, glances our way, then quickly clutches her purse in her lap.
Mom stiffens. She knows as much as I do why just looking in our direction elicits that response.
Hat Lady leans toward her neighbor and whispers something behind her gloved hand. Then she turns to Mom, her lip curling. “Your husband destroyed my retirement. You shouldn’t be here.”
Organ music begins at that exact moment. The service is starting, and the timing couldn’t be better. Mom lifts her chin, scooting a few inches away from the woman, and holds my hand tight.
There’s so much talking up on the altar.
I can’t keep track of the priest’s words.
They sound far away, not quite reaching my ears.
Something about Owen’s life and God’s plan.
The resurrection and the afterlife. Scripture readings that I’m sure are meant to be comforting but feel so detached from reality.
Time moves differently here. I blink and we’re standing for a hymn I don’t know the words to. Blink again and we’re kneeling. The prayers blur together, responses I learned as a child coming out on autopilot while my brain refuses to accept the space my body is in.
The casket is there every time my eyes open. The only constant in this otherworldly blur. Owen, or whatever remains of him.
There’s crying. So much crying. Maybe it’s my own I’m hearing loudest of all. People cough, Hailey’s baby fusses, the priest sings some more.
Mom keeps her hand in mine like an anchor. Without it, I might drift off.
I’m startled from blankness as people shuffle in the pew in front of us.
“Pallbearers,” Mom whispers, sniffing.
Six men step forward, all wearing dark suits. Knox is one of them. They lift the casket as one, and the reality of it crashes over me again.
Owen is in there. Dead. Never coming back.
My breathing comes in short pants, and the need to run overwhelms me. But I’m stuck, watching them carry him down the aisle slowly.
Knox catches my gaze. It’s quick, but in that short moment I see the devastation in his eyes.
It breaks me.