Page 107 of Forgot to Tell You Something

She shrugs as a fat tear rolls down her cheek, underneath her glasses. “Might as well get the planning done. It’s not involved. My father didn’t want a big funeral. Hated the idea of a bunch of strangers standing around and pretending they gave a crap.”

“Sounds like my Dad. He didn’t want a ceremony. Told me and my mom to scatter his ashes in the North Carolina mountains he loved so much.”

“Do you miss North Carolina?”

“I love the mountains, and the change of seasons. Plus, my family is there.”

“So, that’s a yes,” she offers, her delicate fingers tracing along the dash, creating aimless designs.

“I’ll take you to my home one day. You’ll love it, Tally.”

She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. I see the doubt and uncertainty in her face. I may be less than six feet from her, but I’m miles away from the door to her heart.

We spend the new few hours making funeral arrangements and ensuring everything is just as Mr. Knowles would want it. In summary—little to no fanfare. But that’s easy compared to what lies ahead.

My girl has to say goodbye to her father before his body heads to the crematorium.

She’s shaking when I park at the funeral home, unable to stop the onslaught of tears dripping down her cheeks. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers, and my heart shatters under the weight of her pain.

I grasp her hand, running my thumb along hers. “You’re the strongest woman I know. You can do this, Tallulah Knowles, and I’ll be right there beside you the whole way.”

Finally, she meets my gaze, forcing a small smile. “Promise?”

“I promise, Darlin.” I’m a strong man. I pride myself on the ability to present a brave face to the world. But I’m scared shitless. This is not your normal, run-of-the-mill errand. The woman I love has to tell her last goodbye to the body that held her father, and I’m not sure how she’s going to handle it. How either of us will handle it.

The funeral director leads us to a room, sliding the door closed behind us. There, in a simple coffin, lies the body of Mr. Knowles. Tally squeezes my hand and I press my lips to her fingers. She needs to know I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

With a deep breath, she releases my hand and walks to the casket, her fingers gripping the side as she gazes down at her Dad. Then I hear the impossible. A chuckle.

“You okay, Darlin?”

She holds up the bag of clothes she brought for his final journey. “My father never got over his love of plaid pants. The more ridiculous, the better. He and I used to argue that when he died, I would bury him in a sensible navy suit.”

I join her at the coffin, trying to read her emotions. “I guess he didn’t like that idea?”

“Hated it,” she giggles. She opens the bag, pulling out a ridiculous pair of plaid pants in a mix of orange, green, and blue. “You won, Dad. Here’s to going out in style.”

And then she breaks. Thankfully, I’m there to catch her in my arms, pulling her tight against me as the cries wrack her tiny frame. If I could, I’d take on every ounce of her pain, but all I can do is hold her until the sobs ease and her body softens against mine.

Tally gazes up at me, wiping her face and nose. “I must look awful right now.”

That’s a lie. She’s never been more beautiful, even with the puffy eyes and reddened face. She’s so genuine, so tangible. She’s everything I never knew existed in this world. “You’re always gorgeous.”

“Liar,” she laughs, pushing off me. “Would you give me a few minutes?”

I nod, stepping outside the door. I hear her speaking to her father, but I can’t make out the words. They’re not for me to hear. I text my mother and let her know what’s happened. It’s ironic. In all my years with Charlotte, my mother never warmed to her. It took thirty seconds for her to adore Tally.

The door opens and Tally steps out, nodding at the funeral director. “I’m ready to go.”

* * *

We arrive back at her apartment, and I pull the bottle of vodka from the freezer. I know it’s a dick move, but maybe after the events of today, she’ll talk.

I pour two shots, holding one out to her. “You’ve earned this.”

Tally shakes her head, solidifying her pregnancy in my brain. “I’ve got a headache.”

“Vodka cures everything, haven’t you heard?”

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