Page 81 of Covetous

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.

Chapter Thirty

Liv and I sit across from each other at our usual booth in Harry’s, the empty space beside me feeling surreal. As we reminisce about our zipline adventure in Puerto Vallarta, Liv recounts, “As soon as we took off down the zipline, she started freaking the fuck out, screaming and begging for it to be over.”

Laughter escapes my lips as the memory of that day floods back, despite my own fear of heights. “I still can’t believe she pissed herself,” I say, reaching for my espresso martini—the same drink Esme ordered the last time we were all here.

Shaking her head, Liv adds, “And made us swear on our lives not to tell a soul.”

“We locked it up in the vault.” Our food sits untouched, forgotten and growing colder as we lose ourselves in memories. Talking about Esme in the past tense still doesn’t feel real.

Even through the sadness, Liv’s eyes glint with a hint of mischief. “The vault: where secrets go to die.”

Silence settles over us; I pick at my food, my appetite long gone.

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