Broken Knight (All Saints High 2)

Each story lifted me up and brought me back to life. The audience laughed, cried, clapped, and gasped at the stories Rosie had left for us. And by the time Luna was done, no one remembered how weird it was that she’d spoken. Everyone was laser-focused on the fact that Rosie had left us with such happy memories.

It was when we stood up, and people trickled up to her casket, that I understood why my wife had enlisted Luna Rexroth to do this for her. The finality of the situation hit me as if it was the first time I’d learned my wife had died. I clutched the back of the pew, righting myself.

Levy scurried to Bailey, who threw her arms around him, letting his pain soak into her like Rosie had for me, countless times.

I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, expecting Knight and Luna to have a similar reunion, especially after the exhibit of loyalty and trust Luna had put on. To my surprise, I felt a hand on my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, I vaguely recognized the woman in front of me. She looked like a distant memory. A yellowed old picture, curling at the ends.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She sounded genuine. I nodded. I wondered at which point, if ever, it was acceptable to ask her who the fuck she was. Instead of putting both of us in an awkward position—truth was, I didn’t care who she was—I smiled politely and moved toward the neat line of people who’d paid their respects to my wife and wished to say goodbye.

“Wait,” I heard the woman yelping behind me. “We need to talk. I need to…I need…I need you.”

I stopped. Turned around. She looked meek. Timid. Almost scared. Did she realize this was not the best pick-up place in the world for newly singled millionaires?

I frowned, losing patience. “Yes?”

“Your wife asked me to come here.”

“She did?” I smiled skeptically.

I didn’t buy it for one second. Chances were, my wife wasn’t keen on throwing younger blondes on my ass before I’d even buried her.

The little blonde nodded furiously, swallowing hard.

“And you are?”

“Dixie Jones.”

“Dixie Jones,” I repeated the name, tasting it in my mouth before the penny dropped.

Motherfucker.

My eyes narrowed, and I immediately twisted my head to look for Knight. Suddenly I was rabid. I wanted to protect my kid like he was a baby and she was about to kidnap him. As it was, Knight weighed probably more than both of us. He could wear his birth mother as a scarf and forget to take her off when he walked indoors. He didn’t need my protection, but it didn’t make me want to give it to him any less.

“He knows I’m here.” Dixie read my mind, taking a step back.

I obviously looked as distraught as I felt. I needed space. From her. What the hell was she doing here?

“What the hell are you doing here?” I echoed my thought.

She looked ready to explain, but the last thing I wanted was baby mama drama at my wife’s funeral.

I held up a hand, shaking my head. Already people’s gazes were beginning to turn our way. I was supposed to be with my friends and family, not talking to this young stranger. Dixie Jones was, I decided, not the sharpest pencil in the box, despite my wife’s strange fondness for her.

Late. Late wife. I was never going to get used to it. Yet, Rosie had wanted her here. I couldn’t disrespect her wish.

“Know what? My son is eighteen. He is of legal age. If you want to talk to him, do. If he wants you in his life, I will give him my blessing.”

She nodded.

I should have stopped, but I couldn’t.

“If he doesn’t…” I said slowly, fixing my gaze on her. “I will unleash hell on you if you come any closer to him. I’ll bury you so deep in legal shit, by the time you come up for air, it will be your turn in a casket. He’s been through enough. Now, excuse me, Dixie. I need to go say my farewell to the love of my life.”

With that, I turned around and walked toward the woman I’d joined with between these pews two decades ago. Only then, she’d worn a wedding gown and a mischievous smile.

Only then, she’d promised me forever.

Only then, I’d taken it, knowing damn well forever wasn’t going to be the longest time.

As I peeked into her casket, at her tranquil smile, her gorgeous, porcelain face, that white chiffon gown she loved so much, I knew forever wasn’t long enough.

Not for a love like ours.

A little while later, I watched Levy hugging Bailey over my wife’s fresh grave. I wanted to die.

I watched Luna engulf Knight in her slim arms. I wanted to dig a hole next to my wife’s grave and settle there.