Page 18 of Tangled Threads Of Fate

“Zelda and I had been talking about it anyway before she died. It’s what she wanted. What we both wanted. She wanted you and the babies to always have a roof over your head. If you decide you want to leave Boston, I’ll buy out your half so you have something to start with. A nest egg.”

“Nate…” I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have to do this, even if it was Mrs. B’s last wish. No one would have ever known. “I…” Fuck, I didn’t know what to say, but tears threatened to run down over my cheeks, no matter how vigorously I blinked them back. “Thank you.” I threw my arms around his waist and felt him stiffen slightly, before relaxing into the hug.

“It’s what she wanted,” he said dismissively, like he just hadn’t given me more security than I’d had since my parentsdied. But he didn’t let me go, just stroked my back as I cried silently against his chest.

It feltlike Mother Nature was taunting us on the day of Mrs. Byrne’s funeral. It was the most perfect, beautiful sunny day we’d had all month. It feltwrong. It should’ve been as gray and miserable as I felt. As the whole crowd behind me felt.

Dressed in black, I sat in the front row of the graveside service. Beside me, looking stoic, was Nate, the black button-up shirt he wore clinging tightly to his shoulders and setting off the tattoos that peeked above his collar. His beard was trimmed close to his jaw, and his eyes were covered with dark sunglasses.

It felt like everyone I knew in our tight-knit community had turned out for the funeral. The ladies from the church were all there. Rossi’s was closed for the day so the entire Rossi family could attend. Even Mr. Lunetta had come. There were former students from when Mrs. Byrne had been a teacher, her knitting circle, even the President of the Eire Society of Boston. It felt like everyone who’d ever crossed paths with her had come out to pay their respects.

The Catholic priest at the front of the crowd droned on about piousness and goodness, and the amount of people whose lives had been bettered by a true stalwart of the faith. He went on and on, and I could feel myself starting to burn under the heat of the midday sun.

Nate lifted one of his huge hands and held it above my head, sheltering me from a little of the heat. I looked over and smiled at him gratefully, even if it was a little soggy around the edges.

People stood up and spoke about their experiences with Mrs. Byrne, and I couldn’t help but smile through the tears. She’d helped Hal Wallers when he broke his hip falling down icy steps out the front of his house; she’d taken him food every single dayfor weeks. He described how she’d sat with him and watchedJeopardy!for hours, just to keep him company while he was bedbound.

Zia Maria talked about how Zelda—Mrs. Byrne, it really was weird for me to think of her as Zelda—had come over to drink wine with her when her youngest son enlisted and was sent off on his first tour of duty, then lit a candle for him every day until he returned.

Finally, it was my turn, and I waddled to the podium set up in front of all the folding chairs. There was a murmur in the crowd as they took in my pregnant belly, and I steeled my spine. I guess those people who hadn’t known about my pregnancy did now.

Clearing my throat, I looked out over the crowd. “Mrs. Byrne saved my life. A few times, actually. I remembered her from my childhood, a friendly face I’d sometimes see at my grandmother’s house when I went to visit, who’d always sneak me candy with a grin and a wink.” There was a low chuckle through the crowd.

“When my grandmother died, and my parents soon after, I was adrift and alone in the world, yet she didn’t hesitate to step up and throw me a lifeline. She stepped in to be my surrogate grandmother, without caring that taking on a teenager might be hard work. She gave me a space in her home, three meals a day when the idea of cooking for myself—of going on at all—seemed too hard. She was my lighthouse for so long, and I’m adrift once more without her.”

My voice broke, and I watched Nate shift in his chair, like he wanted to come and rescue me from this too. I held a hand up in his direction, keeping him in his seat.

“But even in death, she made sure I had a safe harbor, and that was just the kind of woman Zelda Byrne was. She was good down to her very core. She was giving, even to the detriment of herself. She was tough—so fuckingtough—but she never letit make her bitter. She is a woman I admire, and still someone I’d like to make proud.” I looked down at the grave, her shiny wooden coffin glinting under the sun. “I’ll miss you, Mrs. B. I love you.”

I’m sorry.

With that, sobs shook my body, even as I tried to swallow them back. Nate stood, coming over to usher me back to my chair. The rest of the funeral slowly wrapped up, and as the priest committed her body to the earth, I began to build myself back up again, brick by brick.

The wake was going to be held at the church hall, catered by Mrs. Byrne’s bible group, but I had to wait until they lowered her into the ground and started covering her over before I could move. I was almost waiting for her to pop up from her casket and say, “Sweet Wren, you spoke beautifully, child.” Nate stayed by my side the whole time.

Finally, swallowing hard, I stood. I needed to move. To leave and go and pay my respects at the wake. People would expect me to be there.

“I’m okay,” I murmured as Nate gripped my elbow, though my shaky knees flew directly in the face of that statement. Merely grunting his disagreement, he wrapped an arm around my ever-expanding waist and ushered me up the small aisle between the chairs. The funeral directors stood at the end like gargoyles.

This day had dragged on, and all I wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed—well, Nate’s bed, because I was still too chicken to go back to my own—but I needed to show the proper respect first. Mrs. B deserved that from me. I’d drink a cup of tea or two, have a finger sandwich, then use pregnancy exhaustion as an excuse to leave early. Hell, it wouldn’t even be an excuse; I was exhausted.

But as we headed into the shade of the trees bordering the cemetery, I audibly groaned. Because there, standing beneath the trees, was my panicked ex-boyfriend.

“Fuck,” I swore beneath my breath, and Nate went tense beside me, his eyes darting around, looking for threats. However, there were no shadow monsters or anything else that oozed. There was just Thomas, who was a douche canoe, but not a monster.

“Is it mine?” he gasped out.

Had I mentioned he was really stupid too?

“Thomas, we broke up twelve months ago. Unless you’re the Messiah and can impregnate me with a thought, it seems unlikely, don’t you think?” I had the patience of a saint, really. How I’d managed to stay with this guy for three years was actually a real miracle. Call me Saint Wren, Patron Saint of Dumbasses.

Nate actually growled in Thomas’s direction, and Thomas gave him the side-eye. Obviously, he had no self-preservation skills either.

“Nate.”

“Thom-ass,” he replied. I was pretty sure he’d done it on purpose, though you couldn’t really tell with the slight lilt of his accent. I had a suspicion he played it up at times.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Why are you here, Thomas?”

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