Page 85 of Tell Me You Love Me

Amused—and entirely oblivious to how her easy affections for my brother make my heart ache—she pats his shirt down and carefully fixes the tie he insisted on wearing. “Yeah, I think Chris will be there. Probably most of the town, actually. Grandma never left Plainview, and she met everyone at least once. I think it’s going to be busy.”

He holds her wrists in his hands, searching her eyes as worry flitters through his. “What if everyone tries to talk to me?”

“They might.” She licks her glistening lips and draws a deep breath. “But you don’t have to talk back if you don’t want to. It’s polite to say thank you when they tell you they’re sorry for your loss. But if you run out ofthank yousor you just don’t want to?—”

“Me and Chris will be your bodyguards.” I smile when two sets of eyes come across, then moving away from the counter, I wander closer and stopbeside the pair. “The people who matter will know your heart. And those who don’t matter,” I shrug. “Don’t matter.”

“That’s right,” Alana confirms. “Those who don’t matter aren’t worth worrying about. Now, go to the bathroom, please.” She straightens out, then she tilts her chin toward the doorway. “We can’t go until you do.”

He sighs, turning on his heels and stalking away. “Fine.”

“Now, you lean on me.” I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her in until her cheek rests on my heart. I hold her close, squeezing her shoulder and sliding my palm along her arm. “You need to take five minutes to breathe. You’ve been green all morning, Lana. Don’t think I didn’t notice. And you’re being brave for Franky, but eventually, you’re gonna fall if you don’t rest.”

“Thank you.”

I exhale a quiet snicker. “Is that a politethank you, the kind you toss out the day you bury your mom? Or a regularthank youbecause you like the way I hug you?”

“The second.” She slides her arms around my back, linking her hands together. “I know you have other stuff going on. You’ve hardly even begun training for Vegas, and Chris is getting itchy about it. You?—”

“Have absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be.” I kiss the top of her head. “And don’t worry aboutus,” I tease. “In a few days, once things have calmed down and life goes back to a new normal, you’ll remember your vow to keep me away. Something about me falling in love with someone else or some such thing.”

She sniffles and giggles. Humor and devastation in the same breath.

“Maybe my new hoe will come to the funeral today. You could introduce us, since that’s what nice, selfless women do.”

“You’re annoying me.” And yet, she squeezes tighter and buries her face against my chest. “And speaking of hoes, my best friend will be there.”

“I know.” I lean back and swipe her cheeks clear. “I’m your best friend. I’m literally riding with you. Though calling me a hoe is a little hurtful.”

She rolls her eyes. “Myotherbest friend. My New York best friend, who freaks at the idea of chicken poo and a lack of high-end department stores.”

“She sounds perfect.” I cup her face and set a chaste, dry kiss on her swollen lips. “Make the introductions, and I’ll see how things go from there. Maybe it’ll be love at first sight, and since she’s already your best friend, you could probably be the maid of honor at our hoe wedding.”

“You’ve set yourself a mission to irritate me as much as possible today, huh?” The toilet flushes, and the tap switches on in the bathroom,so she looks up at me with glittering eyes and a sweet smile. “It’s helping. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“When we’re done with all this, I kinda want to talk to you about something.”

Curious, I pull back and search her eyes.

“Something important,” she sighs. “Something private.”

“You wanna tell me now?”

She shakes her head, but even if she wanted to, Franky wanders back into the room and Alana steps out of my embrace. So I move to the door and grab her shoes.

“Are we going to Darlene’s after?” Franky stops with damp handprints on the thighs of his pants and a shirt twisted from redressing.

Realizing this, Alana quickly steps into her shoes, then she turns to her son and straightens him out. “Caroline’s putting on a lunch thing at the bar, and some others said they’d help cater it. So anyone who wants to go will be there.”

“Are we going there?”

She finishes with his shirt, sets her hands on his shoulders, and looks down into his eyes. Then she sighs. “I’m not sure. Is it just me, or are we all freakin’ exhausted already? It’s barely after ten in the morning, and I’m ready for a nap.”

That’s called trauma, I think. Grief. Healing, perhaps. Fuck knows.

“I guess we’ll see how we feel after the cemetery. There will be a lot of people there, and they’ll all want to talk to me. I might need quiet afterward.”

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