“This is Daniel, my boyfriend.”
Olivia Hart slipped her arm through my husband’s while forty people stood around us in black.
“We were going to announce our engagement next month,” she added. “Dad just… didn’t make it long enough to see it.”
Daniel’s hand, which had been resting against the small of her back, went completely still.
I stared at him.
He was supposed to be in Munich.
He had texted me from “Germany” at eleven the night before, complaining that the weather had turned cold and asking me to mail him the heavier coat he’d forgotten at home.
Instead, he was standing in a funeral home outside Chicago wearing a black suit, a white boutonniere pinned to his lapel, looking very much like a member of Olivia’s family.
Olivia wiped under one eye.
Then she looked past me toward the entrance.
“Did your husband make it back from Germany?”
