Page 118 of The Art of Dying

“Yes,” I said, giggling while I playfully pushed him out the door.

“Be good for Mom, kids. See you in a bit.”

The kids didn’t make a peep, focused on their iPads, and I was grateful I had the freedom to freak out in silence. Just when I stopped myself from tapping on the door’s arm rest, Agent Lindy knocked lightly on my window, startling me.

I stepped out, straightening my dress.

“It’s time,” Agent Lindy said. “The reception line has started. Are you okay?”

I nodded, turning to help the kids from their car seats. Emily stood on one side of me, Dylan on the other, holding my hands.

Agent Lindy took a step toward me. “It’ll be fine. One of the best days of your life.”

I breathed out, nodding my head.

The closer we got, the louder the music became. The happy chattering and laughter easily made its way over the flower-covered fence. The sun had already begun to set, and the lights strung along the fence made the wildflowers seem to glow.

We stepped inside the opening and walked toward a white tent.

Agent Lindy turned to me. “Wait here,” she said.

After a few minutes, more people joined me outside, people I didn’t know. Two men who looked like carbon copies of each other, each with a woman at their side: a pregnant woman with long, blonde hair, and another woman equally as beautiful, but with dark hair, a professional camera hanging from her neck. There were a few more men, women, and children who followed them out, but I didn’t recognize any of them. That made sense. Anyone who would be shocked to see me and the kids would be inside the tent being prepared for what they were about to see.

I let go of the kids’ hands and rubbed mine together, trying to redistribute the sweat forming on my palms.

“Hi,” the photographer said, approaching with her date and the other couple. “Are you here for the Trexler wedding?”

“Just the reception,” I said.

“Tyler Maddox,” he said, extending his hand. “This is my wife, Ellie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ellie said.

I’d heard several stories about Ellie, but she looked nothing like the drunken woman wandering the forest Kitsch described.

“Falyn Maddox,” the pregnant blonde said, smiling sweetly at me, a splash of freckles over her nose making her seem even more angelic than her flowing, bright blonde hair, backlit by the setting sun. She touched her stomach like I used to always do—unconsciously—when pregnant and speaking with strangers.

I remembered Kitsch telling me she had given up another child for adoption when she was young, and that child, Olive, ended up being the next-door neighbor to her boyfriend’s—now husband’s—brother. Olive lived somewhere out-of-state, so I knew it couldn’t have been the twin I was currently standing in front of, because he was also a hotshot firefighter. It was surreal to meet them all in person. I knew all their stories, and they didn’t even know I existed.

“Taylor,” her husband said, shaking my hand, too.

“Are you friends with the groom or the bride?” Taylor asked.

“With Trex,” I said. “My husband works with him.”

“Oh?” Ellie asked. “Who’s your husband?”

“My dad’s name is Terrell Kitsch,” Dylan said.

“We can say that now,” Emily added.

The brothers and Ellie traded glances. Falyn was the only one who didn’t seem confused, which made sense because she was the only one whose name Kitsch hadn’t mentioned, so she would have no idea that he was supposed to be a widower.

Taylor pointed to the kids and then to me. “Wait… you’re Karen?”

I nodded once. “I’m actually waiting to go in so Kitsch can explain…”

The twins looked at each other, wide-eyed.

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