I drop my head into my hands. “Fuck.”
“And that doesn’t include the cemetery plot or headstones. Unless you wanted, um, cremation.”
Pressing my forehead into my palm, I try to relieve the pounding behind my eyes. “Shit.” What would my brother want? I have no goddamn idea.
“Has his attorney called back yet? I’m wondering if Cal left any clues in his will.”
“No, he hasn’t called.”
I glance up to find her worrying her bottom lip. “Do you have any suggestions? My brother and I haven’t been close for a while…” My voice trails off.
“Sorry, we never talked about this sort of thing.”
Would my mom want the ashes? My stomach churns at the thought of having to ask her, and I swallow back the bile.
As though sensing my distress, Katherine says, “Brady, they weren’t religious. Mel went to Mass on Christmas and Easter, but that was pretty much it. I think she’d be fine without having any kind of service in a church.”
“I hadn’t even thought about whether we needed a priest or some kind of religious officiant. Cal and I weren’t raised religious.”
Silence lingers between us for a moment, and then Katherine pulls a chair up next to the desk.
“The funeral home has a nondenominational minister who can say a few words if you want. They’re emailing me an invoice tomorrow that has all of the costs itemized, so if there’s something you don’t want or something you think we should add, I can still make changes.”
I nod, feeling like I’m fucking up my brother’s funeral. The guilt of that bullshit argument we had weighs on me, and the question I keep asking myself plays on repeat in my head: Why didn’t I call him back that night?
My throat is tight when I tell her to get the flowers. I don’t see how she’ll have time to do them herself anyway, and trying to save a few hundred dollars on the funerals makes me feel like a bigger dick.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Cal and Mel were really low maintenance. Whatever you decide is fine. I’m sure of it. They wouldn’t want you to stress out over details.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Thanks for that. I’m one crisis away from losing my shit.”
Katherine’s quiet a moment, and when I look up, she’s biting that lower lip again. “Would dinner help? You must be starving. You’ve been in here brooding since you tried to flash me your palm tree this morning.”
And then I do the last thing I expect at a time like this. I laugh. Jesus. This girl.
“I most definitely did not try to flash you. Had you not unleashed the Wild Kingdom in my room, I would've had the goods locked away.”
She chuckles, and I can’t help but smile back. “Sorry about that. I left the porch unlocked, and Bandit snuck in here, and wherever Bandit goes, the kittens follow.”
I sigh. “Tell me again why we have a pet raccoon?”
She shrugs. “Because he needed a home.” Then she winks like that’s the most obvious answer in the world and waltzes out the door.
10
Katherine
I had decided to act like this morning never happened, but Brady looked so stressed out this afternoon that I wanted to say something to lighten his mood. So yes, I called attention to his enormous erection.
My mother would be mortified.
A smile tilts my lips. I’ve always been a good girl. Not the naughty one. Never the naughty one. No, that honor goes to my younger sister Tori. So teasing Brady is not my style, but I won’t deny I enjoyed it.
After stirring the casserole and returning it to the oven, I turn around in time to get a huge spoonful of sweet potato puree tossed at me.
“Oh, Isabella, you’re lucky you’re so cute.”
She laughs, delighted with herself. At least she’s smiling. She could paint me from head to toe in sweet potatoes if it meant the kid would be happy.
I unbutton my flannel shirt and peel it off so I can wash it out under the faucet. Fortunately, my white tank top escaped the attack.
Goose bumps break out on my arms as I dip my hands under the water.
“It’s chilly in here, baby,” I call out to Bella.
A deep male voice replies, “It is.”
Brady strides in and bends down to kiss Bella on her head before dropping into a chair at the kitchen table. “You’re a mess, little girl.”
Then he turns to me and stares, not saying a word.
My eyes widen. “What?”
He smirks like I’m missing something, and I glance down to see my nipples poking through my sheer bra and thin tank.
My cheeks burn. “No, this isn’t the same thing as your boner.” I pull the front of my shirt away from my chest so I don’t look indecent. I’m only a C cup, but this white tank top makes the girls look enormous. “I’m cold.” I wave at my chest. “This has nothing to do with being turned on. Right now, I bet your nipples are hard too.”
He laughs, a wicked smile spreading on his face, and says, “You might be right, but I doubt it’s from the temperature.”
Oh, sweet mother.