Chapter 1 - Whose Funeral Is This?
“Whose funeral is this?”
Evan Hale’s voice cracked before the vintage leather suitcase hit the hardwood floor.
He had barely crossed the threshold of his own house.
Warm candlelight filled the entryway. White lilies crowded a long table beneath the staircase. Dozens of white pillar candles burned around a framed black-and-white photograph of a smiling eight-year-old girl.
His daughter.
Lily.
A black ribbon rested across the corner of the frame.
Behind Evan, the blonde woman in the fitted red dress stopped so suddenly that her beige clutch slipped in her hand.
Maya stood beside the memorial table in a black wrap dress and high heels. Her eyes were swollen and red, but she did not look surprised to see him.
She looked tired.
Finished.
“Maya…” Evan stared at the photograph as if refusing to understand what his eyes were telling him. “What is this? Whose funeral is this?”
Maya’s jaw tightened.
Evan took one step forward.
Then another.
“Lily?” His face drained of color. “No. No, this isn’t real. She was fine when I left.”
“She wasn’t fine when you were gone.”
The suitcase slid from his fingers and landed on its side.
Evan looked toward the stairs. “Lily?”
No answer.
He looked toward the hallway. “Baby?”
Nothing.
He rushed toward the memorial table, knocking his shoulder against the wall.
Maya moved between him and the photograph.
“I called you fifty times from the ICU.”
Evan froze.
“What?”
“Fifty.” Her voice was low and flat. “I texted you. I emailed you. I called the hotel you told me you were staying at.”
The blonde woman behind him whispered, “Evan…”
Maya finally looked at her.
Not with surprise.
Recognition.
“So this is Ava.”
Ava went pale.
Evan turned quickly. “Maya, listen to me.”
“No. You listen.”
Maya reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out her phone.
She opened a message and held it up.
Evan recognized his own words.
STOP SUFFOCATING ME. I NEED SPACE. I’LL CALL WHEN I’M READY.
His knees almost gave out.
“I didn’t know she was in the hospital.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I thought you were angry about the trip.”
“You lied about the trip.”
Ava backed toward the open door. “I think I should leave.”
Maya never took her eyes off Evan.
“You were on a vacation,” she said. “Now you can live with it.”
Evan’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Then Maya turned toward Lily’s photograph.
That was when Evan saw the small pink phone lying beside the candles.
Lily’s phone.
Its screen lit up from an incoming voicemail notification.
One unheard message.
Sent three days before Lily died.
May you like
To: Dad.
And Evan suddenly understood there was one more thing waiting for him.
