Chapter Twenty-Eight
The funeral service and burial for Aurelia Quinlan was an event the entire town attended.
When Charity walked into the church on his arm since her mother had insisted he escort her and sit with the family, despite the heated stares from her brothers and father, he could feel every eye in the place on them, assessing him, wondering who he was.
During the Mass, Charity couldn't contain her tears or emotions. Kolby threw an arm around her and pulled her up against him, hearing the not-so-subtle whispers around them.
At the gravesite, when she clung to him, the tears still flowing, he had one hand around her waist, the other holding one of her hands. Murmurs swirled around them, but he couldn’t catch any of the words. His one hope was whatever the town-folk were saying about him, it was positive.
And when the post-burial luncheon took place in the church basement, the press of people who made a beeline up to Charity, and, by extension, him, and who wanted introductions while assessing him with curious eyes, was almost too much.
But he’d promised himself he would do whatever he had to in order to help Charity get through this sad day.
At one point a humongous, six and a half foot bearded man who had tree trunks for arms and thighs as wide as a semi, shoved into an ill-fitting blue suit with a white button-down shirt screaming at the seams, came up to them.
“Baby-girl,” he said, giving her a nod. “Sorry ‘bout yor granny. She was loved by the whole town.”
With a sniff and a quick swipe at her dripping nose with a tissue, she nodded and said, “Thanks, Albert.”
He nodded, then glared at Kolby. “Albert Masterson,” he said, shoving his hand out.
The guy's fingers reminded Kolby of thick sausage links. His hand was swallowed up whole in the man's grasp. “Kolby O’Brian. I’m a friend of Charity’s.” The last name pulled at his memory banks.
“Heard you was more than a friend,” the man said, his lips pursing as he glared at Kolby. “Folks’r saying yous two are together. Like, together together. And you ain’t from around here. So.”
“Junior.” There was a warning in Charity’s tone and it dawned on him who this behemoth was.
“Jus' repeatin’ what’s bein’ said, Baby-girl, is all.”
Kolby gave himself a reminder to never – ever- get Charity to the point where she would look at him the way she was looking at the man in front of her right now: like, if he said another word she was going to have him flat on his ass, spread-eagle for all the world to see.
“Anyways. Sorry for yor loss.” With that, he nodded again and toddled away.
“Dumbass,” she said under her breath as she swiped at her nose again.
He didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but at just that moment, he did.
They got through the rest of the day, and before he knew it, he had to leave for his scheduled flight home.
Standing in her parent’s driveway with his arms around her, their bodies aligned from waist to toes, he told her, “I really want to stay."
“Go home, Kolby, and see your mama. I’ll be back in a few days, probably before the Creedmore/Ableman wedding on Saturday. I don’t want Colleen to have to work two big events in her condition.”
He kissed her nose. “Text me? Or better, call me every day?”
“Phone works both ways,” she quipped.
He grinned down at her, and with a last kiss that he was sure her entire family was staring out the living room window watching, he whispered, “I love you. So much. And I can’t wait for you to come home so I can show you.”
When the bottom of her ears went pink, he knew she understood his meaning.
Before he got into the rental car, he turned and waved at the house, grinning from ear to ear when the living room curtain swished.