At Peace

The girls had their sandwiches just outside Merrilville, Kate unwrapping his in a way he could eat the massive creation without half of it falling in his lap. She handed him his Coke, she opened a bag of chips for him and she half unwrapped a candy bar to finish his enormous lunch (he’d had to refuse candy bar number two).

Keira, when he caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, glared at him or, when he didn’t catch them, he saw she was staring out the window, her expression set to sad.

Both girls were quiet, maybe because they were deep in their thoughts but probably because their mother was sleeping.

As they hit the affluent area of Chicago where the service was being held, Kate gave Cal quiet directions.

He turned in, the lot already mostly full, mourners looking their way as they pulled in, eyes staying glued to the Mustang as he found a space.

Cal got out, pulled forward his seat and looked in the back.

“Both of you, out this side,” he ordered quietly.

Kate scrambled out. Keira threw some attitude with her eyes then scrambled out after her sister.

Cal put the seat back and got in the car. Then he leaned into Vi and put a hand to her knee.

“Honey, wake up.”

He squeezed her knee as her eyes fluttered then she came to with a start.

She straightened in her seat and looked around.

“We’re already here?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, baby.”

Her head slowly turned to him and she blinked. Then her chin tipped and she looked at his hand at her knee.

Cal gave it another squeeze but didn’t move it.

“You want a sandwich before we go in or do you just wanna go in?”

Her confused eyes came back to him and she said, “I have to put on my shoes.”

He looked at her feet in flip-flops and then back to her.

“You have them on.”

She shook her head, unbuckled her seatbelt, reached an arm to the floor and came up holding a pair of spike heeled, sexy black pumps.

Cal’s eyes went from the shoes to her face. “Buddy, you’re not fuckin’ wearin’ those shoes.”

“Yes I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“But, I am.”

“You aren’t.”

She leaned toward him and whispered, “I can’t wear flip-flops to Sam’s funeral.”

“You got stitches in your foot,” Cal pointed out.

“So?”

“Vi.”

“Cal.”

He felt his mouth go tight as he squeezed her knee again.

They needed to have words, he knew that, not now, later, when she was herself again. When this shit didn’t weigh heavy on her mind. When he could tell her the state of play had changed pretty fucking significantly. It had changed in a way that Haines’s fucking SUV wouldn’t stay parked in her drive all night. It had changed in a way that her ass would never be in that SUV again. It had changed in a way that she’d stop fucking calling him Cal and use his goddamned name like she used to.

But they’d have words later.

Now he needed to get her to her brother’s service.

“Put ‘em on,” he gave in, taking his hand from her knee, “let’s go.”

“I’ll be out in a second,” she replied.

“What?” Cal asked as he buttoned the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

“Vi, just get a move on.”

“Cal, I said, I’ll be out in a second.”

Cal sighed and knifed out of the car. Then he threw the door to.

He made short work of knotting his tie, something he hated, preferring to have his fingernails torn out at the roots. Not that that had ever happened but he was sure he’d prefer it. The minute he was done, Kate moved into him and shoved a shoulder under his arm so he had no choice but to slide it around her shoulders.

Another thing that Kate did that she got from Violet.

Keira took a step back and looked away.

His brilliant idea with Nadia clearly didn’t go down so well with Keira, exactly as he’d intended.

Jesus, he wasn’t a dick, he was an asshole and he had some serious fucking work to do.

“She okay?” Kate whispered, peering into the window to look at her Mom.

“No,” Cal told her the truth.

Kate’s arm around his waist flexed and he gave her shoulders a squeeze.

Then he saw through the window why Vi wanted him out.

She was sliding up a pair of black, lace-topped, thigh high stockings.

He tore his eyes away.

He’d had two and a half months without her, without any woman, and it felt like two hundred fucking years.

Minutes later, her door slammed and she limped around the car, going to Keira and putting her arm around her. Cal studied her as she did this. Only Vi could go to a funeral looking like a classy sex kitten. The jacket was sweet, the tight dress sweeter and those fucking heels were unbelievably hot, even though it pissed him off she was wearing them.

Before he got his head sorted, Kate hustled Cal toward her mother and sister and she slid her arm around her Mom’s waist. This meant while they walked up to the front doors with a number of people watching to the point they were staring, they did it in a row, arms around each other.

Score one for Cal and Kate.

Kristen Ashley's books