I Pucking Love You (The Copper Valley Thrusters #5) - Pippa Grant Page 0,30
all over it solo. But it’s here, and—Tyler? Are you okay?”
A funeral.
She’s dragging me to a damn funeral.
Nope.
I am not okay.
11
Muffy
So this is going well.
I have a date who judges me for eating sugar and who looks like he might hyperventilate. The line to get into the funeral home for the viewing is six thousand people long. And I’ve already spotted three former classmates.
Part of me wants to squeal, hug them, and ask how they’re doing, where they’re working, and what’s new, because I did like most of my classmates back in the day. Or at least, I didn’t dislike them. I just didn’t know them as well as I knew Veda.
I liked them enough to want to ask how they’re doing. That says something.
But I can’t.
I’m that failure.
And being here is making my pulse race and my mouth dry and it’s like I can see the auras of everyone who ever believed in me when I decided to go to med school, and they’re all telling me what a horrible disappointment I am.
I push it all away and look at Tyler again.
I’m wearing a hat with a black veil that my mom had in her closet, and so far, I don’t think anyone’s recognized me, but if he passes out, people are going to notice, and then they’ll want to know why I’m wearing a funeral hat when no one else is, and it’ll be obvious I’m super uncomfortable, and while I don’t think anyone actually thinks about me, ever, I can’t stand the thought that I’ll be whispered about once again.
Or, worse, that he’ll be here, and someone will point me out to him, or someone will point him out to me.
Not that anyone should know who he is.
At least, I hope not. I didn’t even tell Veda. Ever. She still doesn’t know, which means no one should know.
Still, it’s a lot.
Possibly too much.
“It’s fine if you want to go back and wait in the car,” I murmur to Tyler, even though the words make adrenaline spike so hard that I get a pounding in my temple that makes me wonder if I should see a doctor about a stroke.
Lucky me. I’m surrounded by them.
“You’re not going in there alone,” he mutters back.
He doesn’t even know why I don’t want to be alone, but he’s sticking with me. Two points to Tyler.
I forgive him for being judgmental about what I eat. And after growing up with a dad who’d constantly ask if I went up another size and a mom always dieting until she had gastric bypass surgery a few years ago and lives for that moment she steps on the scale every morning to see that it’s still working, yeah, I’m sensitive about what I eat.
Also, eating an entire bag of Donettes probably wasn’t my wisest decision on a road trip.
My stomach does actually hurt from that too right now. Not that that’s why I made Tyler stop for the bathroom.
I made him stop because I had a mini-panic attack at getting so close to here.
Definitely should not do that again.
I reach for his hand and squeeze it, and a jolt travels up my arm and pings from my shoulder through my abdomen like it’s a pinball machine. “Thank you.”
He squeezes my hand back. “You don’t even want to know what you’re gonna owe me.”
Sex. He’s going to demand repayment in sex.
And now I’m going to puke.
I really am.
Possibly because had I not eaten an entire bag of Donettes, and if we left the lights off, I’d be willing to try sex with him again tonight.
Maybe.
Is it appropriate to have sex while on an overnight trip for a funeral?
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.
“Peachy.”
“Liar.”
“It’s a viewing for my friend’s father. Of course it’s uncomfortable. But we’ll get through it, and it’ll be fine.”
“This is ridiculous. We’re both getting out of here.” He tugs on my arm, but I tug right back.
Do not underestimate a woman with birthing hips, which is what my mother called them after my father started making comments about the time I hit puberty. It lowers my center of gravity and makes it harder for muscular jocks to move me.
But apparently Donettes don’t give me the right kind of energy, because Tyler’s succeeding in tugging me when I know I should be able to resist.
“I have to be here for Veda,” I hiss. “I promised.”
“Then why are you meeting her here? Why didn’t you meet her someplace before now? Why aren’t we already inside?”