Chapter 4

Some things are too heavy to say. She was too old to handle that kind of truth.

I let out a quiet sigh. "Let's just eat, okay?"

Grandma gave me a long look. After a beat, she hit me with, "Emma, you still talk to Mr. B?"

I choked on my food, coughing like crazy. My fork slipped and clattered to the floor. I scrambled to pick them up, and that's when I heard Grandma sigh again.

My fork slipped and clattered to the floor. I scrambled to pick them up, and that was when I heard Grandma sigh again.

"Back when the family stuff went down and you two broke up," she said, "you weren't straight with him, were you?"

My eyes burned—probably the spicy food. I grabbed the fork and managed to mutter, "Grandma, that's old news."

Her frail hand patted mine.

Her cloudy eyes looked all teary. "Sweetheart, look at you. All these years… Maybe I should have a word with him for you."

"He's married," I blurted, my voice wobbling despite myself.

It had been five years. No one was just gonna wait around that long.

Especially not now, when my time was running short.

Grandma's face froze, and she didn't say another word.

That night, I lay in bed, lights off. Moonlight slipped through the curtains.

I reached into the nightstand and pulled out that old photo.

In the dark, I could barely make out the two faces pressed close together.

All these years, this was the only way I could look at it—fuzzy, in the dark, no lights on.

It would hurt less that way.

The photo was from six years ago, when Daniel and I got engaged.

Even in the dim moonlight, my brain filled in every detail: him holding me tight, kissing the corner of my mouth for the camera, his eyes full of just me.

All around us, friends and family were laughing and celebrating, the whole place buzzing with joy.

Back then, I thought we were kicking off something beautiful. Turned out, it was over in a heartbeat.

When we first met, Daniel wasn't much for smiling.

But over the years we were in love, he'd flash me all kinds of smiles—soft ones, sweet ones, happy ones, even the occasional eye-roll kind.

Now, five years later, when we saw each other again, he was back to that stone-cold poker face.

I gripped the photo tight and slipped into sleep without meaning to.

Some memories I tried to shove away, but they still creep into my dreams.

I first met Daniel back in middle school.

His family owned a funeral home, so they were pretty well-off, but some folks would whisper it wasn't exactly a "respectable" gig.

Kids at school, mostly the guys, gave him a hard time about it.

They'd snicker behind his back or straight-up mock him, saying his family made bank off dead people, calling it bad mojo.

Daniel was super quiet, almost painfully shy, and never clapped back.

That just made him the go-to target for bullies.

One day after school, I caught a bunch of guys ganging up on him outside the gates. I didn't think twice and yelled for a teacher.

Some of those punks were in my class, and one of them got all up in my face.

"Emma Collins, stay out of it," he barked. "His family's always around dead bodies. You want their bad luck rubbing off on you?"

I burst out laughing. "Funeral homes give the dead some dignity and the living some closure.

"What, when someone in your family kicks the bucket, you just gonna dump them in the Pacific?"

The dude's face went beet red. "You saying my family's dead? Who the hell do you think has dead people, huh?!"

I smirked. "Touchy, huh? Always yapping about bad luck, like your whole family tree's immortal or something?"

Right then, a young teacher rolled up, catching the whole show.

She probably figured I'd saved Daniel's bacon and that he'd be itching to be my buddy.

Next day, she plopped me next to him as desk mates.

But a whole year side by side? We barely swapped a word.

After graduation, we went our separate ways, no contact.

Seven years later, I'd just graduated college.

My family set me up on a blind date, and the matchmaker was hyping this guy up. "He runs a big company, service industry, thousands of clients."

My mom was over the moon, practically shoving me out the door. And who did I see? Daniel.

I couldn't help but chuckle, thinking about the matchmaker's vague spiel.

Daniel was a whole new person. Smooth, polished, not a hint of that shy middle school kid.

He asked what I liked, ordered dinner, and we had a decent meal.

But it was clear he didn't recognize me.