Page 220 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“No.”

He hands the flyer back and rests his elbow over the chair when he looks back. “This funeral home is two blocks north of here and three blocks straight down. You’ll get there faster if you walk it than sitting here letting the meter run. This honey truck isn’t going anywhere soon. And the bees are coming.”

I can walk.Fuck, I’ll run it.If that means getting to Juni, being there for her, I’ll do it. He turns on the windshield wipers when I take the flyer back and toss a bill to cover the fare. “Keep it.”

Swatting a few bees out of the way, I start running, now wondering if bees are a sign of something. All this New Age destiny stuff is fucking with my head.

I’m a runner, dammit. I’m not usually running in jeans, fitted jeans at that. Not only is the denim rubbing me wrong in my crotch but it’s also fucking hot today. I reach the funeral home, stopping on the steps out front to catch my breath. Wiping the sweat with the hem of my shirt, I try to clean up out of respect. There was no time to change clothes, so a white T-shirt and sneakers it is.

I march up the steps and open the doors. Gil turns to offer a program, but when he sees me, he says, “Andrew, you’re back in town?”

Keeping my voice low like his, I reply, “Just got in and heard the news from Pete. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He’s been a resident in the building since before I started working there. Nice man.”

“How’s Juni doing?”

He lifts up to see if he can spot her. Maybe that’s all the answer I need—to see her again. “She’s sitting alone in the first row if you’d like to see her.”

“Thanks.” As much as I would like to get advice on a few things, now is not the time. I can’t think about me, or us, when I know she’s devastated.

I don’t get far before he catches me. “You know, Andrew, she hasn’t opened up about what’s going on or what happened, which is unlike her. But you know what that tells me?”

“What?”

“She cares about you. A lot.”

“I care about her more than a lot.”

He grins, and maybe that’s allowed at the funeral for a man who lived a long and good life. I’m sure Mr. Clark is already in heaven causing a scene and kissing his wife.

Gil whispers as the service begins. “Commitment has always been a thing since her parents died. They were too good at what they did, loved it, but obsessed. Even they couldn’t control their fate. But Juni somehow got it twisted in her head that if she took herself out of the running, she’d never be hurt again. I’m not telling you what to do, but when pushed, she runs the other way. So, if you’re thinking about trying to get back into her life, you get one shot. Make it count.”

I shake his hand. “Thanks, Gil.”

He tugs me in and whispers, “Hurt her again, and you’d better stay in California.”

Leaning back slowly, I see the warning in his eyes to back his words. I nod, surprised to see this side of him. I’m equally happy Juni has him. “I won’t.”

I don’t join Juni on the front row, deciding at the last minute it was best to let her have this time to grieve. I also don’t want to disrespect Mr. Clark’s family and friends.The one time I’m not Mr. Suit . . .

After a long line of speakers wanting to share poignant stories of how Mr. Clark affected them or changed their life for the better, Gil grips the side of the podium and leads us in a moment of silence. Then he says, “There’s someone else who would like to say a few words. Mr. Christiansen?” He steps aside, signaling me to come up.

“What?” I’m shaking my head. I barely knew Mr. Clark. If not for that last conversation before I left for Seattle, I wouldn’t know him at all.

Out of the sea of people, Juni’s head rises above all. Her eyes penetrate mine as her eyebrows knit together. “What are you doing?” She doesn’t even mouth it but says it for everyone to hear.

While I panic sweat in this pew, Gil grabs the microphone again and says, “Now is your chance to say how you feel, Andrew.”

Why’s he doing this?He’s the one who told me to—shit—make it count. I thought he meant for me to decide when that would be, not to be forced into it.

With everyone staring at me, I stand and walk slowly up the aisle. When Rascal sees me, he yaps and springs from his blanket in front of the casket to run to me. Tail wagging, tongue hanging out the side, and freshly washed by how his fluffy fur makes him look round.

I bend down and catch the little fellow. This time, I don’t mind his slobber all over my chin. At least someone missed me.

Juni is seated again, and when I pass, I hand Rascal over as a peace offering. She takes him and holds him to her chest. He barks once more, but she’s able to quieten him down as I step behind the podium. Looking at this packed house, I look down to try to gather my thoughts. Remembering what Mr. Clark told me, I step forward.

Here goes everything.

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