Tristan & Danika Book 3 - Page 70

Danika hugged me hard.  I’d never talked to her about Tony, but I had a feeling she knew everything.  She’d been more secretive about it than I had, but we’d both been keeping tabs on each other over the years.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DANIKA

I showed up at his house already dressed in a conservative black sheath dress, my hair pulled back in a chignon, my makeup neutral and soft.  I was in full funeral mode.

I didn’t want to go.

I felt bad about it, but I still didn’t feel right about going.  Mona always tried to be pleasant, but her father had just died, she had to be hurting, and I just didn’t think she’d want me to be there.

I searched for the words to explain this to Tristan without sounding like an insensitive jerk about the whole thing.  He knew I didn’t like Mona.

As though to pre-empt my attack of the flake-outs, he came to the door just shrugging into his dress s.h.i.+rt.  It was still unb.u.t.toned, and I ran my hand over his bare skin.  The crisp white against his tanned, tatted skin was just too delicious not to touch.

He caught my hand and pulled me inside his house, and then tight against him, kissing my forehead.  “Thank you for coming to this.  It means a lot to me to have you with me right now, and I know you don’t like Mona, so I’m doubly grateful that you’re willing to do this.”

I hugged him hard, feeling like a royal b.i.t.c.h for even considering backing out.  And for being so obvious about disliking Mona.  She’d really done nothing to earn it, aside from sleeping with a man I wasn’t speaking to at the time. (Logic meet feelings.  The two of you will never see eye to eye.  Let the lifelong catfight commence.)

“Of course.  Want me to pick out your tie?”  Of the two of us, I was the only one that cared enough to try at fas.h.i.+on.

“Yes. Thank you.”

No matter how I tried to look at it, I didn’t like the woman.  The fact that she seemed to like me just fine didn’t sit right.  I was torn between thinking she was completely, convincingly fake, or worse, that she was just that bigger of a person, because I couldn’t act like I convincingly liked her for even a minute.  It was all I could do to be civil.  Though, with her dad recently pa.s.sed, I knew that even I would have no problem offering her sympathy today.

But, fake or not, bigger person or not, I just couldn’t convince myself that she’d want to deal with me today.

The point was moot, since Tristan had expressed his need for me to be there.  I never was any good at telling him no.

I went straight to his closet and picked out a soft gray tie for him.  He stood very still for me while I knotted it, his eyes closed, head tilted slightly back.

“I like this, you knotting my tie,” he said quietly.  “But I’m afraid to ask where you learned to do it.”

My hands paused for a moment, then continued to tie the knot.

His breath shuddered out.  “Andrew,” he guessed correctly.  His mouth twisted down on the name, like he couldn’t say it without scowling.

I finished, started straightening his collar, smoothing it, and then running my hands along it, just touching for the sake of feeling.  “Don’t.  You wound up with kinky cage beds, and learned to tie knots; meanwhile I learned to knot a tie.  Rehas.h.i.+ng this stuff, over and over, isn’t healthy.  And if this is going to work, it has to be healthy.”

He nodded, mouth still shaped into a deep frown.  “You’re right, but it’s not easy.  I’m still…processing.  I need a grace period for adjustments.”

“Me too.  Trust me, going to your girlfriend’s dad’s funeral is not something I ever thought I’d be doing.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.  She never was my girlfriend.”

I really didn’t want to get into it, but I couldn’t let that one go.  “Well, she isn’t now, but you can hardly say that she never was.”

“You know what?  You’re right, let’s not talk about this right now.  I’m in a s.h.i.+tty mood, and we don’t need to actively work at making it s.h.i.+ttier.”

I winced.  I’d forgotten for a minute what was going on today.  He was putting a good friend in the ground today.  I needed to remember to be more soothing of a presence.

I put my arms around his waist, laying my cheek on his chest.  “I’m sorry.  How you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay, just in a foul mood.”

“That’s understandable.  Would it help if I promised not to antagonize you for the rest of the day?”

He squeezed me, kissing the top of my head.  “Frankly, your antagonism has never been the problem.  In fact, I kind of like it, for the most part.  You leaving is my problem, so it would help if you promised to stick around for the next few days.  I could use the company.”

I thought this was a result of all of his therapy.  Back in the day, he’d needed me plenty, but he’d never been able to communicate in such a specific way before.  “You got it.  I have to work tomorrow, but I could bring a few things over, stay at your place, if you want.”

“I want.  Thank you.”

“Of course.  Anytime you need me.”

“I always need you,” he said solemnly.

I shut my eyes and swayed against him, feeling like I was floating.  Whether it was floating on a cloud, or floating unmoored, in the middle of the ocean, I could not have said.

The verdict was still out.

He pulled back after a time to study my face.

I just blinked at him.

I tried to get my bearings, but I had no time to recover, not from being back on solid ground, h.e.l.l, not even from being off it.

The funeral was an ordeal, though I didn’t breathe a word of complaint.  Funerals weren’t supposed to be pleasant, and who could be picky about the method of unpleasantness, really?

It was a huge event, and the itinerary was daunting.  There was a private eulogy with close friends and family, followed by an open casket to the public, where anyone could pay their respects for about five hours.  I wasn’t judging, but I would have found that to be a difficult way to handle things, if I’d been his family.  For their part, they were being generous with what remained of him.

Mona seemed remarkably composed.  She was holding court at the entrance to the casket room.  Her hair was pulled back tight from her face, her makeup heavy.  She was conservatively turned out, from the neck up.  The neck down, now, that was a different story.  She was dressed in a s.e.xy black dress that had a slit up the thigh, and showed off enough cle**age that I was surprised she’d worn it to a funeral.