Rachel Dyken: Elect

“Do I have a choice?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“There is always a choice.” Luca rose and slapped my shoulder. “But remember, there are always consequences.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I finished my wine and stood. “Does Mil know yet?”

“Yes.” Luca buttoned his coat and straightened his black tie. “She is not happy.”

“When has she ever been happy?” Tex mumbled behind me.

“I trust I will hear of your glowing progress over the next few months?”

I shook Luca’s outstretched hand and kissed him on the right then left cheeks. “You can count on it.”

“I hear Lake Michigan is lovely in the spring,” he joked as he made his way toward the door. “I shall see you at the funeral tomorrow evening.”

“Yup.”

After he left, Tex and I sat in silence at the table.

“He’s an ass,” a female voice said from the kitchen.

“Ah, Mil.” I grabbed a spare wineglass. “Happy you could join us. And Luca isn’t an ass, he’s just… a man with a lot of power.”

“Oh, I know.” She took the glass. “I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Chase.”

I raised my glass. “Then we are in agreement. Cheers.”

She closed her eyes and drank a deep sip from the merlot. “I need you guys, now, more than ever.”

“Wow, that was the nicest thing she’s ever said to us, Nixon.” Tex winked at her, and she scowled and took a seat.

“We’ll help as much as we can.” I stared out the dark window and concentrated on the day in the future when we wouldn’t have impending death hanging over our heads.

It was official.

I hated funerals.

Cremation. That was my future. No chance in hell was I going to put my friends and family through hours of torture only to relive all the memories and then get buried in the ground.

I adjusted my black tie and put on my aviators to hide my bloodshot eyes. I’d been on edge ever since I woke up, to remember Mil and her word. Proposition. Damn, that couldn’t be good. Since when did that girl ever need a favor from anyone?

The sermon wasn’t long.

Nixon and I were the first to put flower petals on the casket, followed by Tex, Frank, Luca, and then the girls.

Nobody really cried.

My stomach was in knots as the casket was lowered into the earth. Then it started raining.

Wow, it was as if God was aware of my mood and had decided to make it worse. We sang in Sicilian and then the pastor mumbled the benediction.

I heard sniffling next to me and looked over as Trace hid her face in Nixon’s jacket.

Ten seconds. I stared for all of ten seconds. I even took a step in their direction. I was so damn used to comforting her that seeing her cry caused a knee-jerk reaction in me. I wanted to be the one to catch those tears.

She pulled off her dark sunglasses and wiped her eyes, and then looked in my direction.

I should have looked away.

But I couldn’t.

I was frozen.

In ten steps, she was in front of me.

My jaw clenched as she very slowly stepped into my arms and hugged me. I put my chin on her head and wrapped my arms around her body.

Nixon looked in our direction, gave me a small nod, and walked off.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Minutes? Hours? People began conversing. Some drove away right after the funeral ended; others stayed and shook hands with Nixon.

But me? I was hugging the girl I loved.

“I’m sorry I was angry with you,” Trace whispered. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t want this to be awful but I think it’s going to be, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I managed to say, “It’s gonna suck, but…” I looked over at the hole Phoenix’s body had just been lowered into. “You need to know something.” I kissed the tip of Trace’s nose. “I will always be here for you. Always. I promise I’ll try to move on, if you promise me one thing.”

“What?” Her eyes twinkled.

I nodded to Nixon. “Give him hell.”

Her face broke out into a grin. I felt my expression matching hers and then we both laughed. She gave me one final hug and then ran off into Nixon’s waiting arms.

Thank you , I mouthed to him.

He nodded and walked off with her.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Dream of me?” Mil said from behind me.

Well, no time to mourn my broken heart when I had to deal with the devil and a hangover all in the same morning. “Thanks for your uh, help, Mil.”

She crossed her arms, forcing her dress to tighten around her little body. Damn, but she was a tiny little package of rage. From her dark hair to her really pretty long legs and bright blue eyes. If she wasn’t so hostile I’d have half a mind to be attracted to her.

But she was like a damn tiger.

And I was fond of all my parts, thank you very much.

“So?” I put my arm cautiously around her. “What’s this proposition?”

Mil tensed underneath me. “Don’t laugh or I swear I’ll shoot you. Don’t think I won’t do it. After all, we’re at a cemetery.”

“Have I ever told you how lovely you were?” I tilted my head. “No?”

“Ass. Do you want to hear it or not?”

“Okay, you’ve got me.” I stopped walking. “What do you need?”

She exhaled and looked up into my eyes. “I need you to marry me.”

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor . She keeps her home in Idaho with her husband and their snoring boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com.