Home > The Shape of My Heart (2B Trilogy #3)(15)

The Shape of My Heart (2B Trilogy #3)(15)
Author: Ann Aguirre

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but the ceremony was sedate. The minister gave a touching talk about meeting in the next life; there were three musical interludes and a very old man went to the microphone on a walker to talk about Max’s granddad. A few people sniffled but nobody cried. That seemed like the watermark of how nice you were in life. If people seemed okay with your passing, then you probably had some karmic restitution coming. Well, provided that the Hindus were right about reincarnation. Eli was a good guy. He might be somebody’s beloved new baby by now. How I wished I believed that. Certainty would be comforting.

While I was thinking about how awesome it would be to come back as a house cat, the service ended. Everyone filed up to say farewell, but I hung back. Max nodded, probably not understanding my hesitance, but he was good at picking up cues. Michael was one of the first through the line, and I smiled when he rolled toward me.

“Hey. Sorry about last night. I was really rude.”

“You and Max have some stuff to work out. I get it.”

“We do. But you and I don’t.” Okay, I definitely wasn’t imagining the flirty grin; I’d watched Max unleash it to devastating effect all through college. “You said you’re not his girlfriend, right?”

“We’re roommates, actually. You should come visit sometime.” After I said it, I realized we were on the second floor, and Michael seemed fiercely independent.

“Are you from Michigan originally?”

“Chicago. It was quite a culture shock. I didn’t even drive when I graduated.” The L took me everywhere I wanted to go since I had no reason to venture into the ’burbs.

“And that was when?”

“Are you seriously asking how old I am?” Reluctant amusement sparked a smile, one that Michael returned with interest.

“I’m curious. Sue me.”

“Twenty-one. If things go well, I’ll graduate this year.”

“Yet you don’t sound excited.”

“Eh, I’m a business major. It’s not the employer catnip that it used to be, so I’m not looking forward to working at Starbucks. And, wow, you’re good at this.”

“What?” He opened his eyes, innocent, but I wasn’t buying it.

“Charming information out of people.”

“You think I’m charming?”

Max joined us in time to hear the question. “Are you hitting on my brother again?”

Smart not to call him “little.” You’re learning.

“I’m just laying the groundwork, so he’ll remember me fondly when he’s legal and I’m the antisocial cat lady living in your basement.”

Michael answered before Max could. “I think you’re shooting too low. You could totally swing ground-floor accommodations if you lean in.”

Since I only knew about that book because of a sitcom and Google, I had to give him a fist bump for that one. “I’ll try not to let you down.”

“You want to ride with me to the cemetery? Dad’s going with Uncle Lou.” The offer included both of us, so I glanced at Max.

Ah, the mysterious uncle I didn’t meet last night.

“Yeah. If you’re sure it’s okay.” The hesitation in Max’s tone broke my heart because I knew exactly how long he rolled around last night, memories chewing him up from the inside.

“I’d rather not go alone.” Michael spun around and headed for the exit.

Up front, the casket was being removed out the side door, but we didn’t stick around to watch it happen. Michael opened the rear doors and unfolded the ramp, then wheeled up to the driver’s seat. Max and I hopped in, then pulled it up after us and closed up. I sat in back, leaving the front to the brothers. They talked quietly during the ride, and I tried not to eavesdrop.

Max, you should tell him.

The drive took almost forty minutes, and I texted with Nadia most of that time.

So Angus tells me you ran off with Max.

Yeah, we figured we’d get our first trial marriage out of the way early.

You realize I’m completely helpless without emoticons. You might be in Vegas right now!

I’ll explain later. Everything’s okay.

She texted me three more times but I ignored those. Max finally glanced over his shoulder. “Who’s beeping you so hard, Kaufman?”

“Some things are just too private to share,” I teased.

“Are you sexting?” He lunged for my phone.

To keep the joke going longer, I shoved it down the front of my dress and smirked at him, brows up. “How bad do you want to know?”

For two heartbeats, he considered going in. But then he mumbled something unintelligible and turned around.

Michael checked the rearview as I fished my cell out of my cleavage, then offered, “I could find out for you, bro.”

Before things could get weird, I said, “I’m not sexting, it’s Nadia. She just wanted to know what’s going on with us.”

“Ah. Tell her I said hey.”

“Who’s Nadia?” Michael asked.

I told him about her, along with Angus, a rambling monologue punctuated by occasional remarks from Max. By the time I finished, the convoy reached the cemetery, well outside the city limits. The trees were probably gorgeous in fall, but it was pretty in late summer, too, green and well-kept. But it was hard to follow Max up the path, harder to see Michael struggle and know it would only piss him off if I offered to help. From this distance, I could see the tent, the coffin on burial scaffolding, a hole in the ground, the folding chairs set up on outdoor carpeting. They’d moved all the flowers from the funeral home, arrayed them around the coffin, so the breeze hit me in the face with the scent of sweet decay.

We were among the last to arrive, and this time Michael hung back with us. The funerary rites were mercifully brief; since the weather was muggy, hot and overcast, I’d have hated standing there for an hour. The wind died down, hinting at the prospect of a storm after nightfall. Maybe it would clear the air. One way or another we could use it.

They lowered the coffin and Carol tossed a flower into the grave. As people started to leave, I shifted, wondering if I should suggest...something. But really, Max needed to take the reins and sort out his family business without my intervention. So I kept quiet.

“What’re you doing now?” he asked his brother.

“There’s a potluck at the house,” Michael said. “If you want to come.”

His first reaction came in the form of leaping pleasure shining in his dark eyes, quickly dulled to uncertainty. “I don’t know if—”

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