if I were in her position, though God forbid I ever am.
My stomach clenches at the mere thought of losing Gabriel.
“I just wanted to tell you that Vito was a good man,” I say. “He’s going to be missed by everyone. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I know it must be crushing.”
“It is.” She sniffs, green eyes rimmed with red.
“I lost my father a couple years ago,” I say. “It still hurts, but it gets easier.”
Corie nods. “So they tell me.” She glances behind me. “I think you need to go rein in your man.”
I look back and swear under my breath. Gabriel is standing in the far corner of the room, speaking to a man I don’t recognize. His face is contorted with rage, and as I watch, he snaps something that has the man reeling back toward the refreshment table.
“Excuse me,” I say with a tight smile, and make my way across the room.
I insert myself in the conversation, resting my hand gently on Gabriel’s arm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” the unfamiliar man sputters.
“You didn’t,” I say, though I have no idea whether he did or not. “Please excuse us.”
I guide Gabriel to the back of the space, where French doors have been flung open to let in the unseasonably warm morning air. A stone patio extends toward a lush green lawn, hedged in by laurel bushes. Gabriel and I walk to the railing and lean against it, facing away from the funeral and all of its guests.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Gabriel huffs. “Nothing.”
I look up at him, cocking a brow. “You made that dude crap his pants over nothing?” I inquire.
His lips purse a little. “He was getting on my nerves.”
“What did he say?”
Gabriel flexes his shoulders. “He asked if Vito and I were close.”
“You mean a normal question to ask at a funeral?”
I sigh. Public interaction is not Gabriel’s strong suit, and I suspect that public grieving is the worst kind for him. He is dealing with so much anguish and guilt over Vito’s death already that I don’t see him being able to fake a business-as-usual demeanor. Not without a little help.
“Why don’t we go grab some cocktail wieners?” I say diplomatically, guiding Gabriel to the food.
If his mouth is full, he can’t hiss threats at anyone.
But Gabriel doesn’t eat when we get to the buffet table. He doesn’t even look at the food. He just stares out into the crowd, his eyes lingering over each person as if wondering who they are, how they knew Vito, and what measure of malice he can dole out accordingly.
“Gabriel.” I take his hand and squeeze it.
He looks down at me, but before I can say anything, a woman I don’t recognize walks up to us, dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. She is short and very tanned, to the point where it looks orange and fake. Her blonde hair is pulled back into an elaborate chignon and her black dress flutters with layers of chiffon.
This woman has dressed for the part. A little too much.
“Gabriel, how long has it been?” she sniffs.
Gabriel tenses. Here we go.
“Siobhan.” He nods at her.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here on family business,” she says, eyes narrowing. “Not that there’s much family left to speak of.”
Oh dear. Why do I get the feeling this woman’s last name is Walsh?
“What are you doing here?” Gabriel says in a low voice.
Siobhan’s eyes slide over to me. Then she glances behind me, and I look to see her staring at Corie, cherry-pink lips pursing disapprovingly.
“If he’d made the right choice all those years ago, we wouldn’t be here today,” she says, shaking out her hair, clearly still in competition with Corie for a man who doesn’t breathe. “And you could have avoided your little Irish problem too.”
Gabriel’s hand tightens on mine. I cannot wait to hear the story behind this spray-tanned imp, but first I need to get Gabriel out of here before he makes a scene.
“Siobhan, so nice to meet you,” I say, drawing her attention back to me. “Please excuse us. We have a lot of people to talk to.”
I drag Gabriel away and out of the room, guiding him down the hall to the coatroom, where the attendant is nowhere to be seen.
“We can’t leave yet,” Gabriel says.
“I know.” I reach over to unlatch the door to admit us, then close both halves once we are inside. We stand in the dark, pressed in on all sides