tall, dark-haired woman at his side. Behind that woman, resting a hand on her shoulder, was Hayley, the girl who’d been so rude to Ruth.
Which would, logically, make the dark-haired woman Laura Burne.
“Hello,” Ruth said cautiously.
Evan said nothing. Tension seemed to thrum between the three women in an unbalanced sort of triangle. He had the unmistakable feeling of being utterly superfluous. Whatever was happening here would go on well enough without him.
Burne seemed to have a similar idea, because he said, “Well. I shall see you at work, Miller, I’m sure.” And then, after a slight hesitation, he added, “Goodbye, Ruth. Happy Easter.”
Evan could almost feel Ruth’s shock, but it didn’t show on her face—or in her voice when she murmured, “Goodbye, Mr. Burne.”
The man wandered off, leaving Evan and Ruth, Laura and Hayley, standing opposite each other in the middle of the stone floor.
Evan studied the woman who, for better or for worse, had ended up tied to Daniel.
She was tall like her sister, with the same long, dark hair and unobtrusive prettiness. There was a firm set to her shoulders and a sharpness to her jaw that reminded him of women he’d known in the army. She stood close, very close, to her sister, and was resting a hand against her own belly. He remembered hearing somewhere that Daniel’s wife was pregnant. She wasn’t showing. But two rings gleamed on her fourth finger, one bearing an enormous, tear-drop diamond.
“Ruth,” Laura said. There was no animosity in her tone, or in her face—though, just behind her, Hayley was scowling awfully.
Ruth nodded slightly. “Laura.”
“It’s nice to see you.” The woman’s pale, grey gaze flickered down to Evan and Ruth’s intertwined hands.
“It’s nice to see you too,” Ruth said. “I hope you’re doing well.” She sounded careful, which meant that she had no idea what the fuck was going on. Frankly, neither did Evan. But it was certainly… interesting.
The rest of the churchgoers seemed to think so too. Those who had been hurrying toward the exit found reason to slow down, to dawdle, all of a sudden. Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wondered where Daniel was, then decided he didn’t care. The fucker was probably allergic to places of worship, being a demon and all.
“I’m as well as can be expected,” Laura replied with a hint of wry humour. Then she smiled with an unaffected ease that could only be the result of years’ practice. “Perhaps we might meet for coffee,” she said. “At some point.”
Behind her, Hayley’s face was stiff. Evan saw Ruth flash a look at her old friend before murmuring, “Alright.”
And that, apparently, was that. Laura inclined her head with a matronly grace that seemed too old for her. She couldn’t be more than 35, but she was almost stately as she left.
Evan squeezed Ruth’s hand, ignoring the low murmurs and interested looks around them. “So that was weird.”
“Yeah,” she said. She was frowning slightly, and he could almost see the cogs whirring inside her mind. But then she shrugged, and the frown cleared, and she said, “Let’s find Mum and Hannah.”
It didn’t take long. Patience Kabbah’s enormous, pink hat was visible above the crowd. She stood by the door, pressing the vicar’s gnarled hand with her own. The two of them were speaking very seriously, but as he grew closer Evan realised that the topic of discussion was, apparently, hot crossed buns.
As they waited for the baffling conversation to finish, Ruth and Hannah communicated with that series of significant, eye-widening looks they shared so frequently. Then, after a few moments, Patience turned.
“Well,” she said, her lyrically accented voice bright. “Let’s get home and eat, shall we? Are you hungry, Evan?” She didn’t wait for his response. “I bet you are! Come, girls.”
She floated out of the church, Hannah following dutifully behind.
Ruth and Evan stepped out into the church’s riotous gardens together, the sun beaming gently down on them. They walked slowly, and Evan took the opportunity to study the woman by his side.
She was focused on the daffodils lining the concrete path, simple pleasure all over her face—which was to say, her lips tilted slightly, and her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks plumped. Her dark skin gleamed in the light, and fine tendrils of frizz escaped her braid. She was wearing the most formal clothes she owned, which amounted to a black pair of leggings, boots, and a T-shirt that didn’t bear a fictional character’s face.