Garrett looked almost tame in his dark suit, his raven-black hair tied at his nape. Almost. He still oozed the dangerous aura that had aroused my senses the night we'd first met.
I smiled when they walked toward us. When we reached each other, we didn't need words. The four of us opened our arms and embraced, forming a lopsided circle: Max, Garrett, Karen and me, a quartet of broken hearts standing together amid tragedy.
When we pulled apart, I found myself standing with Garrett's arms around me while Karen cupped both of Max's cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered to him. "If there's anything we can do, you just have to ask."
"I know, Karen." Max pulled her in for another hug and brushed a kiss to her cheek. "I know.
Before any more words were exchanged, an elderly man with graying black hair and a patient, kind smile approached us. "Mr. Penn," the man began, "we spoke on the phone. Carlos Abbott, funeral director of Abbott & Abbott. I'm very sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," Max replied.
Max's voice was that of the businessman again. He'd put on the face he showed the world. Even now, heartbroken and grieving, he was the epitome of strength and dignity. I couldn't help but wonder if that was a Max thing or a British thing.
"I want to thank you again," Max continued, "for agreeing to my request for a closed-door meeting."
Max had asked Mr. Abbott to close the funeral home for our visit. Between pesky reporters and my PTSD, Max had thought this best, and I hadn't wanted to argue. Knowing the place was secure allowed me to focus all my energy on being strong for Max. I was sure Mr. Abbott had only agreed because, well, money talked, and Max had a lot of money.
"You've had too much tragedy in your life lately," Abbott insisted, casting a quick glance my way. "I'm glad I could do this one kindness for you."
After confirming a few arrangements he and Max had discussed over the phone, the most pressing being Mrs. Penn's cremation, Mr. Abbott led us deeper into the building and down a long hallway.
When we reached the end of the hall, Mr. Abbott motioned to a door. "Right this way, Mr. Penn. As requested, I have arranged a personal viewing."
Max faltered as we crossed the threshold, and I completely understood why. This was the room where his mother's body was being… displayed? God, was that the right word? There had to be a better one, but I couldn't think of it.
The space lacked all the charm of the main area. Gone were the warm color pallets and floral arrangements, replaced by cold stainless steel—including the stainless steel slab in the center of the room where his mother lay covered by a white sheet.
I curled into Max. God, it was so, so, so… impersonal. A woman's life was over, and the best the mortuary could do was to cover her with a plain fucking sheet. The sight tore at my heart, and I didn't even know the woman.
I gripped Max's hand with near-brutal force as he stepped beside the table. Karen positioned herself at my right and looped her arm through mine while Garrett moved to Max's other side and rested a hand on Max's shoulder.
Mr. Abbott assumed a position opposite us. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Penn."
We stood cloistered together, unmoving, for nearly ten minutes. Mr. Abbott, to his credit, didn't seem inclined to rush Max, and I was grateful for that. If my mother were under that sheet, then I wouldn't want anyone to peel it back, either. If I didn't see her face, then, in my mind, I could pretend she might still be alive, but if someone were to pull the covering back and I saw her? Well, my delusion would forever be shattered.
When Max finally nodded to Mr. Abbott, I pressed a kiss to my lover's biceps and sidled closer still. As support went, it wasn't much, but I didn't know what else to do. I'd never seen the man I loved this broken, and that said a lot.
"Take all the time you need," Mr. Abbott said. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."
At my first glimpse of Amelia Penn, breath stalled in my chest. God, she looked so much like her son. Well, he looked like her. If, somehow, she opened her eyes, would they have the same blue hue as her son's? They did have the same wavy blonde curls, but her face was sunken in.
Max shuddered, a total-body movement that made me fear he would collapse. Repositioning my hold, I fastened an arm around him. Garrett did the same, our arms stacking atop the other's.
Max took a tentative step forward but immediately stopped. At least, I thought it was a step; he may have simply stumbled. Given the way he'd collapsed when he'd received the news of her death, I gave the possibilities even odds.
Max remained still a few more breaths before taking another step forward, then another—I was confident they were steps this time. When he reached his mother's side, he traced trembling fingers along the top of her head.
"Mum." Pain saturated the word and broke my heart.
I rested my head against his shoulder, wishing more than anything I could take his pain upon myself.
Max rested his head against mine as he raked in a ragged breath. Then another. One more still. Oh, crap, I'd heard him do this at our bedside after my attack, when he thought I'd drifted to sleep.
He was trying to keep from crying.
"I need a moment alone with her," Max said with a voice so soft that I could scarcely make out the words.
"Of course," Karen said. "We'll be right outside."
She and Garrett moved toward the door as a single unit. I, on the other hand, didn't move from my lover's side. Instead, I pushed to the tips of my toes and placed a hand against his cheek.
"I love you, Max," I whispered. "Know that. And know I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"I know, my sweet." There was that soft, broken voice I wished I could make go away. "And I love you. I will need you later, more than I've ever needed anyone, but right now, I need a moment alone with her to say goodbye."
"I'm here for you," I repeated before tapping my lips to his and leaving him alone.
Karen and Garrett waited for me outside, their expressions a mixture of pity and concern without ever showing too much of either. I went directly to them and was in Garrett's arms before my first tear fell. I burrowed into him, letting him hold me up, needing the quick respite after forcing myself to be strong for Max.
"He'll be okay," Garrett murmured.
"Will he, though?" I hadn't meant to say it, but since I had, I kept going, putting a voice to my fears. "I've never seen him like this."
"I have."
"When?"
Garrett pulled back and looked at me. His expression held a tenderness and an affection that shouldn't be possible given his bad-boy aura. "After your attack, Bree."
I searched the melted chocolate eyes I knew intimately, and I shook my head. "He felt guilty after my attack, but he wasn't—"
"Absolutely devastated?"
I nodded.
He cupped a hand over the back of my neck, a touch of affection I hadn't known I'd needed to keep me grounded until after he'd done it.
"He didn't let you see it," Garrett continued, "but I was there. He was utterly lost in his guilt. I honestly think we would have lost him, too, if he'd have lost you."