Ian

Dee came back into the room, her eyes suspiciously wet, phone clutched in her hand. She sat next to me on the couch in their living room and deflated.

"What's wrong?"

She waved her hand. "Nothing. Pregnancy hormones."

I didn't believe her, but I kept silent.

My knee bouncing, I stared at the front door, willing Rick to walk through. The three of us had decided it was best for Rick to attend Jon Melbourne's funeral. In my effort to keep my distance, to let ...