“Go to hell!” she shrieked before storming out of the house. She slammed the door with such force that the surrounding painting and pictures on the wall fell from their nails, and crashed to the floor.

“You’re making a mistake,” I said, meeting Jared’s obstinate stare. “Claire, wait!” I yelled, hoping she would hear it before she sped away. I ran outside, stopping at the Lotus.

Claire wiped her eyes. “Sorry. I cry when I’m mad.”

“I do, too,” I said, offering an apologetic smile.

“He asked me to go to Anderson’s funeral.” Claire focused her eyes straight forward, too emotional to make eye contact.

“Are you going?”

“I couldn’t think of a good enough reason when he asked, but I shouldn’t. It’s wrong.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Claire’s ice blue eyes darted up in surprise. “You will?”

“Yeah,” I said. “When?”

“In an hour,” she said, attempting to mask her hopeful expression.

I looked at my watch. “Okay. Give me a minute to get dressed.”

Jared frowned as I slipped on a demure black dress. I sat down on the bed to pull up my black stockings, and he sat beside me.

“This is inappropriate on so many levels,” he said.

“Kind of like you sitting next to the reason your father lost his life on the night he died?” I said, slipping on my heels. Jared helped me with my coat, and then I poked a pearl earring into each of my ears. I turned, cupping his jaw with my hands. “Your point is justifiable, but it is her choice, Jared, just like it was yours. Trust Claire to make her own decision. She’s never let you down before.”

“She’s never wanted to tell before.”

“Then that’s your answer,” I said, kissing his soft, warm lips. His mouth lingered on mine, and then I pulled away, knowing Claire was anxiously waiting.

I returned to the Lotus alone, slipping into the passenger seat. Claire pulled on her large, dark sunglasses, and then shoved the gear into first, soaring down the drive, and fish-tailing when she hit the street.

Saints Peter and Paul cathedral was surrounded by dozens of police cruisers, and even more civilian vehicles. The line at the entrance was already backed up to the next block by sniffling mourners.

“We should have come earlier,” I said.

“We shouldn’t be here at all,” Claire said quietly. “Shit.”

A knock on her window prompted Claire to roll it down, revealing Ryan in his dress blues. “You made it,” he said with a reserved grin. He opened the door for Claire, and then jogged around the front of her car, opening the door for me. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”