Wednesday
Soph’s grip on my hand is unyielding as the middle-aged brunette behind the counter leads us up a flight of stairs to the viewing room.
My body shakes as soon as I see the open coffin. I know I picked it out. It shouldn’t be a surprise to see it. Am I ready to see what lies inside? Will he look the same as he did a week ago?
There are white chairs lined up in rows with a clear pathway down the middle to where the ornate timber box is on display.
Soph’s closest arm slips around my waist. She helps me put one foot in front of the other until we’re standing right in front of the coffin.
A lone tear slides down my cheek when I take in the form in front of me.
“This wasn’t the way you were meant to meet him.”
She tightens her grip on my hand. “I know,” she whispers.
“He would’ve loved you.” Because I kinda do.
“I’m really not that loveable.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl.
She leans forward to the casket and casts her eyes over his face, as if she’s taking in every minute detail.
“I don’t want this to sound creepy at all, but he’s beautiful. Kind of like his big brother, but in his own unique way. I can tell that he was a beautiful person.”
“He’s not so fuckin’ beautiful now,” I grumble.
She nudges her shoulder against mine. “I know it’s not the same, because I don’t have any siblings, but when my grandmother passed away it was so hard to look at her when I went to the viewing. It didn’t look like her. When I touched her hand and her face, it didn’t feel like her.” Suds clears her throat and sniffs. “That’s how you have to look at him now. This body was just a vessel for his soul. He’s not with us anymore. You have to take comfort in the fact that he’s moved on to somewhere better.”
With an unsteady hand I reach for his face, and lightly press my fingertips to his temple. The stark reality of the chill of his skin hits me like an electric shock, taking me back to the sterile surroundings of the morgue. I trail my fingers down the length of his jaw and then lean down and kiss his cool forehead.
All strength in my upper body wanes. I slump over the casket and weep for him. There’s no holding back. I fucked up. He paid the price.
“I’m sorry, V. It’s my fault,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
A hand smooths over my upper back as my shoulders heave with each sob. Tears fall relentlessly into the black suit that I picked out for V, a suit Mamma adored on him. It’s been hanging in my closet since he went inside.
“I’m here,” Suds whispers, and kisses my cheek.
Her sweet ramblings are the only thing keeping me sane.
****
The wind is bitter and cold, just like my heart on this dark day. Rogue petals from the arrangement of white roses flutter away as if they have wings.
“For as much as it has pleased almighty God to take out of this world the soul of Vincent De Luca, we therefore commit his body to the ground,” Father Michael says, his voice calm and sincere. The tall man in the black suit presses something on the cage the coffin is resting on and then stands aside, clasping his hands in front of him. The ornate timber box is gently lowered into the ground, taking a part of my battered heart and soul with it.
“Earth to earth … ashes to ashes … dust to dust, searching for that blessed hope when the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we, which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord, and comfort one another with these words.”
Suds, my rock, is at my side. Mac and April and Jones are behind me. This is my family now.
Life can be over.
Just like that.
Goodbye, brother. ’Til we meet again.
****
SOPHIE
April and I gather in the kitchen to make another round of teas and coffees. I still haven’t got rid of the chill in my bones from the cemetery.
Mac and Jones and Rocco are watching some GoPro footage on the flat-screen TV. Any distraction from the ceremony today is certainly welcome by everyone.
“Are you still planning on moving out?” April asks in a quiet voice.
I let out a loud sigh and consider her question, which has been taunting me for days anyway. After the win in Vegas and Fuckface taking the bank off my back, there’s nothing financially holding me back.
“Up until a few days ago, I was. I was going to start looking at places online, but—”
“He needs you, Soph,” she says, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“I know.” I busy myself spooning sugar and instant coffee into the mugs. “I think a part of me wants to stay for more than that. I dunno.”
“Really?” she asks, her voice a higher pitch.
“He’s a good friend.”
April shakes her head and purses her lips. She’s not buying it. Shit. I turn to the lounge room and make sure all the boys are together and preoccupied.
“Something happened between us,” I say quietly in her ear. “The night he found out about his brother.”
She grips both my shoulders. “You slept together?” she whisper-growls, her steely grey eyes drilling me for an answer.
I turn to the males in the room once more. All eyes are still focused on the big screen. Phew.
“Not exactly.”
“Don’t get technical on me, McKenna.”
“The problem is, I don’t know what he’s thinking, let alone what I’m thinking. We get each other. We’ve been through some shit together, and it’s brought us close. We have something. I just don’t know what the hell you call it and if it has a future.”
“I’m sure time will tell.”
I pull her into a hug. “Thanks for being here today. Rocco might not be able to say it, but you all mean the world to him.”
“I’d say by the way he looks at you, you’re the whole damn universe.”
He really looks at me like that?
“Can I ask you something?” she asks, her voice serious now.
“Of course.”
“He worked the stud, didn’t he?” She waggles her eyebrows up and down, just like Jones does, and then bites down on her lip.
A smile stretches across my face for the first time in days. “He worked it, alright.”
She play-punches me in the shoulder. “I knew there was something goin’ on with you two in Vegas.”
There was, but how far will it go?
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SOPHIE
Thursday—one month later
“Thirty-four days,” I announce as I nudge Rocco in bed next me.
It should be weird that we’ve slept in the same bed since Vinnie died, but it’s not. We haven’t kissed since that sad night, and there’s been no hanky-panky either. Our friendship has taken a front-row seat, and I don’t think either of us want to ruin that.
“Yep,” he says, and throws the sheet back, scratching at his bare stomach. “Another day sober.”
Rocco has been strong in his battle against the bottle, and we haven’t missed a single AA meeting. He’s been throwing himself into his work. He’s keeping it together, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. Every day it’s as if he has that little bit of extra zest for life, but I’m not disillusioned into thinking he’s back in one piece.
“What the hell do you wear to a game of golf and not look like a dick?” he asks as he tosses a couple of shirts onto his unmade bed.
“You’re asking the wrong person. I hate golf with a passion.” That was Fuckface’s game.