Free The Red Bikini by Lauren Christopher Page B

from
real
feelings that were
supposed
to elicit goose bumps—things she could look forward to, perhaps, in the future. Maybe from a nice accountant who would speak nicely to her and wouldn’t mind taking on a new daughter.
    Of course, she had had real feelings for Roy and couldn’t quite remember the goose-bump stage. Maybe it had just been short.
    “Joseph was survived,” continued the minister, “by his wife of forty-seven years, Lovey; his son, Roy; his daughter, Ray-Lynn; and a granddaughter, Coco. . . .”
    Coco twisted in her seat with wide eyes.
    “It just means you were Grandpa Joe’s granddaughter,” Giselle whispered.
    Coco nodded, still uncertain, and wriggled back into her seat. She clutched Giselle’s arm and nestled her head near her shoulder, putting her thumb in her mouth.
    Giselle bit her lip. Coco hadn’t done that since she was two. She reached over with her other hand and stroked her little girl’s hair.
    The minister’s words danced through the air like a lullaby and, for a second, Giselle’s shoulders began to relax. She even thought it might be safe to glance at Fin.
    He’d spotted Roy. He’d taken her hand, leaned in, and had even asked her that exquisite question at a moment when Roy had turned to gape at them. So Fin knew. She was glad she wouldn’t have to spell it out, say the words:
He abandoned me for a younger woman. . . .
She was glad she wouldn’t have to risk crying. She was glad she wouldn’t have to seem even more pathetic.
    “. . . and as Joseph goes to his new place in Heaven,” the minister went on, “so, too, will we prepare for ours, and for the day when we will meet him, once again. . . .”
    The minister’s words sent a sudden wave of shame through her.
    “As we live our lives in preparation of that wondrous meeting . . .”
    She closed her eyes.
Live our lives in preparation. . . .
Her breath shook as she tried to fill her lungs. She shouldn’t have brought Fin here. This was a
church
. She was supposed to feel
forgiveness
. So what if Roy had this laughably young nurse at his side? So what if everyone blinked at Giselle with pity? She was used to it in Indiana, with the neighbors giving her sidelong glances in the grocery store; she could get used to it here. And the funeral was only one day. Was her pride so great she couldn’t deal with a day of pitying glances?
    “As we prepare ourselves for that meeting . . .” the minister said.
    And what about Fin? He didn’t deserve to be here as some kind of fraud, being forced to lie. He probably wanted to be anywhere but here—anywhere but with a woman almost a decade older than he was, who was covered in black funeral clothes and trying to seem like she didn’t deserve to be left for a beautiful younger woman. Maybe the decent thing to do would be to let him go. Just because she was playing some kind of sick game of one-upmanship didn’t mean she was free to drag along innocent bystanders. What was she
becoming
?
    “Fin,” she whispered. The minister was saying something about preparing their souls to meet God.
    “What do you need?” He covered her hand, right there in her lap, then let go quickly and dipped his head to try to meet her downcast eyes. He smelled so good—like intrigue and dubious morality. It sent a delicious shiver down her arms.
    “Giselle?”
    She couldn’t look at him. She shook her head, tried to focus on the minister: “. . . the glory of the kingdom of Heaven shall await . . .”
    She’d talk to Fin outside.
    When she could breathe again.
     • • • 
    The June sunshine assaulted her as she tugged Coco to the car, hoping to avoid Roy’s family. The three of them scurried through the gravel until Fin grabbed her arm and swung her around.
    “What’s wrong?” he said.
    “I shouldn’t have . . .” Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She was a terrible person. How could she bring this guy, whom she didn’t even know, and ask him into