He stepped off the podium, wiping tears from his eyes. After him, one by one, my family spoke. Clare said Dad had a tremendous heart. My mother recounted the tale of their fairy-tale wedding day, but she couldn’t make it through, and Leah stepped in to help her. Leah’s speech was much like Logan’s, speaking of how he was the only real father she’d ever known. Her biological father was currently serving a life sentence for attempted kidnapping and abuse.
Soon, there was no one left but me, and I knew it was time. Mia squeezed my hand—her way of telling me it was okay if I didn’t go up there, but for once in my life, I didn’t want to avoid the hard stuff. I wanted my dad to be proud of me.
The distance between the front pew and the podium felt endless, and by the time I took my place behind it, my heart was rattling in my chest. I looked out to the audience and saw my family staring back at me with encouraging tear-stained eyes. Mia had slid over next to Leah, and they were holding hands.
“My father was always a man of words. Growing up, when we had math or science homework, we went to Mom, but if we had a paper to write, Clare and I knew to go to Dad for help. He always knew what to say and when. He had a knack for it, and he was this way with advice, too. In my sophomore year of high school, we were working on fixing up an old car, so I’d have something to drive once I got my license. We were always doing projects together, and unlike some teenagers, I never grew tired of hanging out with my old man. We’d talk about school and football. He’d ask about my friends and my girlfriend.”
I glanced over at Mia, and her eyes grew a bit wider at my mention of her.
“I usually shied away from any girlfriend talk. I thought my dad was cool, but there were limits.”
That earned me a laugh from the crowd, but I didn’t join in. I wasn’t doing stand-up. I was just trying to explain.
“As my sixteenth birthday grew closer, we were nearing the end of the car rebuild. One day, I found myself asking my dad a question. I said, ‘Dad, how do you know if you’re in love?’ His head popped out of the hood and just about hit the top. He gave me an appraising look and finally said, ‘It’s pretty simple really. If you can’t imagine your life without her in it, you’re in love.’”
The wood of the podium was smooth and polished, and my gaze drifted down to it as I gathered my last thoughts. It was better than staring out at that quiet crowd.
“He left me alone for a while to finish up, and I remember sitting on the hood of that car, thinking about what he said.” I took a strangled breath and choked out, “He was right, you know. Love is a simple thing—whether it’s the love of your life or a father. Right now, I’m having the hardest time trying to imagine my life without him in it.”
I should have ended on an uplifting note like the rest of my family had, but I couldn’t speak anymore. If I did, I’d break down, and I didn’t want to do that in front of an entire church full of people.
I took the stairs one at a time, and each one felt like another nail in the coffin—final and irreversible.
The rest of the funeral passed in a blur of sobs and tears. All I remember is Mia’s warm hand in mine, and the immense feeling of peace it gave me. I didn’t know what I’d do when she left tonight.
Chapter Fifteen
~Mia~
Garrett hadn’t said a single word so far on the way back to his apartment from the funeral. He just blankly stared out the window, watching the leafy green trees pass by in a blur while I drove his car. The lines etched in his face and the dark grooves under his eyes explained what I already knew.
He was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
It had been a long day. After the funeral service, the family had driven out to the gravesite, and they had a private service. There was no big funeral procession stopping traffic and involving police. Just the family and minister were in attendance. Garrett had explained that his father wasn’t big on showy ordeals, and he would have hated all the fuss. The service alone would have been considered over the top, but his mother had known the many people who had loved him needed to mourn. So, they’d gone with a large funeral and a quiet graveside service.
Not once through the entire day had Garrett allowed himself to cry, even as they lowered his father’s casket into the ground. There were several times I’d caught him pinching the bridge of his nose or squeezing his eyes shut as if he was forcing the tears away. Why he wouldn’t just allow himself to let go, I’d never understand. No one in his family would have judged him for that. Everyone in that room had cried, including myself, and it had been years since I’d seen Thomas Finnegan. He used to make me turkey sandwiches and sweet tea on Saturday afternoons when I’d sit in the garage, watching Garrett work on his car. He was still one of the most dedicated fathers I’d ever known.
“You missed the turn,” Garrett muttered quietly, pointing to the street sign.
He was right. I was two blocks past where I should have turned.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed. I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t been paying attention.
I flipped us around at the next block and managed to get us parked and settled in front of his large apartment building a few minutes later. I didn’t know how I got a parking spot right in front, but I thanked the parking gods for the gift. I quickly locked the door and handed Garrett his keys.
My car was parallel-parked about three blocks down. This was the joy of living in this area of town. It was always a game of hide-and-seek when it came to parking. Finding the right spot was a constant challenge.
“Why don’t you come up for a bit?” he suggested. He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched a car pass by.
It wasn’t quite nighttime yet, so if I left now, I wouldn’t have to walk to my car in the dark, but I was finding it hard to say no. I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Sure,” I answered.
He let me lead as he trailed behind me. We took the two flights of stairs up to his apartment, and the entire way I felt his eyes on me. Even from behind, I knew his eyes were traveling every inch of me, and my skin prickled into goose bumps at the thought.
His door was the second to the right. I waited while he fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He was pressed up so tightly behind me that I could feel every hard line of his body, and I swore I heard him inhale, like he was smelling my hair. My heart kicked into overdrive at his nearness, but then he took a step forward and opened the door. Relieved for the distraction, I followed and let my nerves settle.