Page 51 of The Art of Dying

“How many are there?” Martinez asked.

“Dozens,” I said.

“Oh, hell no!” Sloan said. “Is he still in Massachusetts? Detour! We’ll pop over to Quincy and break his fingers so he can’t write anymore.”

“Okay,” Mack said, holding up her hands. “Enough. Let’s just have a good Sunday dinner and pretend this didn’t happen.”

“If it were me,” Naomi said, “and it was Matt getting the letters, I’d want to know, too.”

“Well, it’s not you,” Mack said, sitting in her seat. She pointed to mine. “Sit down, Kitsch.”

My jaws twitched beneath the skin, but I conceded and returned to my seat.

“You said you had a bad feeling,” I said.

“Kitsch!” she said through her teeth, leaning in.

Everyone looked to her.

“Bad feeling about what?” Martinez asked. “The job or Mason?”

“We could find out if she’d let me read the letters,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I can’t believe you just said that. I can’tbelievehow manipulative you’re being right now! What iswrongwith you?”

My stomach sank. She was right. That was a low blow. “Fuck, I’m sorry, honey. I’m just… I’m at the end of my rope with this.”

She reached across the table, and I took her hand.

“It’s going to be all right. I’m going to be all right,” she said.

I kissed at her, and she did the same to me and then everyone resumed eating. Everyone but Martinez.

“What was the bad feeling, though?” he asked.

“For fuck’s sake, Martinez,” Naomi said. “You’re the top team. You’ve had one incident. You’ll be fine.” She patted Matt’s cheek with her palm and then leaned over to kiss him. “Don’t be scared. Matt will protect you.”

“Ya damn right,” Matt said, taking another bite.

chapter fifteen.

Mack

We stood in a line, me running the locket Kitsch had given me not long after we met back and forth on its chain, with my other hand gripping my kids’ double stroller. Naomi had her arms hooked around Caroline and me, and Caroline’s left cheek was sunk in where she was biting it to hold in the tears until the plane carrying our husbands disappeared into the night sky.

It had become a tradition for us to appear strong and confident when saying our goodbyes and then letting it all out once they were out of sight, but when Dylan was old enough to understand, we agreed not to show emotion until the kids were put to bed.

Now, it was tradition to drive home together in my SUV in silence, make dinner together and then Caroline and Naomi would help with bath and bedtime. But by the time we sat down on the sofa together, holding hands, the numbness set in. Pretending all day that we felt positive when we all knew the very real possibility that it could be the last time we saw, touched, or heard the voice of the person we loved most in the world was exhausting.

I squeezed Naomi’s hand. “I’m glad you guys finally rented a place here. I know you like your apartment in Arizona, but I can’t tell you how comforting it is that you’re just down the street.”

Naomi winked at me. “I got you.”

Caroline cleared her throat. “Is it a bad time to bring up Mason’s letters?”

After a few seconds of shock, I leaned my head back and cackled. Naomi began laughing, too. Caroline covered her giggles with her hand.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Naomi asked.

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