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He was confused. “Yes?”
“Good. We can bring Samantha a mimosa, too. She’ll need it, I’m sure.”
Samantha gave herself a pep talk as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her black dress fell just below the knee. The black lace of the sleeves also cut across the top of her chest, taking over where the solid black fabric ended. She wasn’t sure if she pulled it off, but she was aiming for sophisticated but not matronly.
The day seemed to sneak up on her. It felt like an eternity had passed between when she said goodbye to Brandon at the hospital and the funeral, but she somehow still was not ready. All eyes would be on her. She knew she would be expected to look sad, but also be in complete control of herself. It was only one day. She could pull herself together for one day under the microscope. And once she got through the day she could finally move forward.
“You ready for this?” Meka asked from her seat on the sofa.
Meka had shown up first thing that morning with coffee and bagels and plenty of determination. Samantha was beyond grateful. She had been sitting on the side of her bed, frozen in place, when she heard the doorbell.
“I’m getting there. Thanks to you,” she answered.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your mom?” Meka offered.
Samantha immediately shook her head no. “This is complicated enough without adding one more thing to the mix. There’s no way she can get here for the funeral at this point and I’d rather she not be here anyway. Thanks, though.”
“I just don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m not alone. You’re here,” Samantha reminded her. “You know me and my mom don’t see eye-to-eye. For my own sanity, I just can’t deal with her. I don’t need a therapist to tell me she’s probably one of the reasons I ended up in my disaster of a marriage. I need to pick up these pieces before she comes in and stomps all over them.”
Before Meka could say anything else, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Samantha looked at her phone and saw it was nearly time for the car to pick them up. The Chief had arranged for an SUV to transport them to the funeral. Samantha would have been fine with a Town Car, but he insisted. She opened the door expecting to see the driver on the other side.
“Sorry we’re late,” Bryce said once she opened the door. “Had a hard time getting a cab.”
Samantha stepped back to give him room to step inside the apartment. The woman who was with him smiled as she caught her eye. She was pretty and about the same age, so she figured her for Bryce’s girlfriend and ignored the pang of disappointment.
“Samantha, this is my sister Rayelle. I hope you don’t mind her tagging along. She was having no part of me doing this alone,” Bryce explained.
Samantha didn’t mask her confusion. “Sister?”
Rayelle nudged Bryce aside and offered a travel cup to Samantha. “We aren’t really brother and sister. We just sort of adopted each other as kids. I’m very sorry for your loss, by the way. I know you’re ready to get this day over with.”
Samantha accepted the cup and was immediately disarmed by the other woman’s transparency. “I’m glad to meet you. This is my friend Meka. She’ll be coming along, too. I hope you don’t mind.”
Rayelle nearly cut her off before she finished speaking. “This is not about us. We’re here to support you. If you brought along a crew of circus clowns, it would be fine by us.”
Samantha was surprised to find herself laughing. She liked Rayelle. Taking a sip from the travel cup, she didn’t taste the coffee she was expecting. Surprised, she held the cup out and looked at it.
“Oh my gosh,” Rayelle said with a worried glance at Bryce. “Tell me you aren’t in recovery or something. We needed a drink this morning and ordered mimosas. Figured you could use a drink, too. I didn’t think to make sure it was okay. I’m sorry.”
Samantha laughed before taking another sip. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
When another knock sounded at the door, Bryce went ahead and opened it. Ordinarily, Samantha would have been annoyed at a guest opening her door, but it felt different. She liked that he was comfortable enough in her home to do so.
A man in black pants, a pressed white shirt, and a black hat stood on the other side of the door. He looked past Bryce and into the living room. “Mrs. Tate?”
“Yes?” Samantha responded before taking a step closer.
“Your vehicle is ready when you are. There’s room for six.”
She shrugged into her black knee-length trench coat and stepped into her black heels. She was as ready as she was going to get. It would be better to leave the house before she had a chance to think about it. The small group followed her out the door and Meka made sure the door was locked behind them. Bryce placed a gentle hand on her arm above her elbow and led her to the black SUV. It had to be nerves causing her skin to heat where he touched.
Samantha found herself clasping and unclasping her hands nervously once they were on their way to the church. It took everything she had to keep her breathing under control. She was feeling so many emotions she was unable to identify them all. Her hands felt cold, but her armpits tingled as she felt herself begin to perspire.
As if reading her mind, Bryce reached across the space between their two captain’s chairs and placed a hand over hers. Closing her eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed his comfort to spread over her like a warm hug.
Her husband was dead. Reality smacked her in the face as the SUV pulled up in front of the church and came to a stop. Through the windshield, Samantha was able to see the black hearse where her husband awaited and an enormous crowd of people. Even though they’d decided on a semi-formal service, it was still an overwhelming sight. A sea of firefighters dressed in their class A uniforms lined the sidewalk as well as the walkway leading into the church. In front of the firefighters stood men wearing kilts and holding bagpipes or drums.
