The morning of the wake was a blur. As much as I wanted to be supportive of Luke, my ego was too badly wounded from yet another blatant rejection the night before.

To avoid him, I busied myself by helping Bev with food for the wake.

“Please! I need to do something to… help,” I had begged after she turned down my initial offer that morning.

“Alright then,” she relented, finally handing me an apron.

Though she wasn’t fond of the ...