As soon as the bartender put the double shot of whiskey before him, he immediately and with no delay, drank it all in a single gulp. He carefully set the now-empty glass back onto the bar’s polished surface and then, with a discreet nod and wave, signaled to the bartender that he would like another drink.
Turning to me, he asked, “Are you here because of a breakup, separation or divorce?”
“None.”
“So, no romantic attachments?”
“Nope,” I muttered as the bartender placed another double in front of him and, like the one before, he downed it quickly, then turned to me and smirked a devilish grin.
“Wanna get out of here?”
I slowly nodded.
Groaning, I leaned my head back on the sofa and closed my eyes. It had been so long since I thought about that night. The night I gave him my virginity and woke up the next morning to find him gone.
He left no note, no thank you, nothing.
It wasn’t until a few months later when I was driving back to my apartment and saw his face plastered on a fucking billboard with him and three other doctors promoting Miami’s newest cosmetic medical clinic. It was also around that time I found out I was pregnant, and when I showed up early to his new clinic to tell him my news, I found him balls deep in a beautiful buxom blonde.
So, I said nothing and left.
“Josephine?”
Blinking out of my daze, I opened my eyes to find my dad and the twins looking at me weirdly.
“You ready to go?”
“Yep!” I plastered on a smile before jumping to my feet.
Today was the funeral of Mr. Munson.
The former trailer park owner of Rosewood and one of the nicest men I’d ever had the privilege of knowing. The entire town was expected to attend the funeral, so it was no surprise to see everyone gathered and mingling before the service. Several of the Sons of Hell brothers, dressed in black and wearing their cuts, stood by the hearse, waiting to escort Mr. Munson to his final resting place.
Of course, LeeAnn McDonald was front and center, dressed in all black from head to toe, even wearing a sheer black veil, kind of like the one Jackie O wore when she buried her firsthusband, JFK. Her beautiful daughters were standing around her, though Laurel looked pissed as her new husband Banks whispered something in her ear.
Seeing Devlyn standing on the opposite side of the open grave, I grabbed my dad’s arm and forced him to follow me before he could create a scene.
“Mom?” my son Jasper whispered, tugging on my dress.
Looking down at him dressed perfectly in his black suit, I asked, “What?”
“Can I go stand with George?”
Scanning the crowd, I saw George with his brother Frank and their grandmother, Martha Steiner.
Nodding, I whispered, “No goofing off. I mean it.”
I didn’t need to say anything more. I knew Jasper would behave. However, when I looked around and couldn’t find Jasmine, I sighed.
“What’s wrong?” my dad asked, finding a place to stand, which just happened to give him the perfect line of sight to stare and ogle LeeAnn who slyly smirked, then winked.
“Jasmine,” I groaned looking around for my daughter.
“She’s with Sugar,” Devlyn absently said, never taking her eyes off her phone.
Sliding over near her, I whispered, “You look any harder at that phone and it will combust.”
Looking over at me, she huffed. “I would be so lucky.”
