“Don’t say that.” It was the polite thing to say, but Tara could only imagine what Astrid might be feeling. She was the sort of woman who put her emotions front and center.
Miranda shook her head in dismay. “Right now, I just want to curl into a ball in my bed, go to sleep and wake up to a different reality.”
Tara pulled her into a hug. Normally full of life, Miranda was frail right now. Her pain and emptiness radiated off her. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I’m so sorry.”
She stiffened in Tara’s arms. “Oh, crap. Astrid is coming this way. I can’t deal with her. Nobody wants to see a cat fight at a funeral. Sorry.” Miranda tore herself from Tara’s embrace, turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.
Before Tara had a moment to prepare, Astrid was tugging on her arm.
“I don’t know what he saw in her.” Astrid’s Norwegian accent was thicker now than the last time she and Tara had spoken. Astrid had moved back to Norway right after her divorce from Johnathon two years ago. Perhaps the time in her home country speaking her native language had erased the Southern California edge her voice had once had.
“Miranda’s lovely,” Tara said. “But you’re the most beautiful woman at this funeral, so I don’t see any reason to be jealous.”
Indeed, Astrid was a true beauty, the sort of woman who wore no makeup and always looked like she was ready for the cover of a magazine. She had lustrous honey gold hair, and was tall and willowy; all clothes looked good on her. It would be easy to envy Astrid, but Tara didn’t have it in her. She knew that Astrid had suffered great emotional scars from her marriage to Johnathon.
“I can’t believe he married again. He never told me.” Astrid’s perfect lower lip was quivering.
Tara didn’t have an explanation for that. She couldn’t begin to imagine why Johnathon wouldn’t have told her. Tara had been duly notified each time Johnathon remarried. He’d always framed it as the polite thing to do, although the perpetually-single Tara had felt as if he was only rubbing it in. Unsure of what she could say that would possibly make Astrid feel better, Tara pulled her into a hug. Apparently her role at this funeral was comforting the other wives. “What’s done is done. He’s gone and we all have to find a way to move on.”
“I can’t imagine letting it go. Ever.”
Tara tried to not roll her eyes, releasing Astrid from the hug. “How long are you staying in San Diego?”
Astrid sniffled. “I still have my penthouse downtown. I plan to stay for a little while. We had a dreary spring at home. Plus, being here reminds me of Johnny. I feel closer to him.”
A corner of Tara’s mouth quirked up. Astrid was the only person who’d ever referred to Johnathon as Johnny. It did not suit the Johnathon she’d known, but perhaps he’d been different with Astrid. Johnathon was certainly a puzzle of a man. Looking for an exit from her conversation with Astrid, Tara took a quick survey of the crowd, and spotted Grant, his easy smile impossible to miss. She wanted at least a few words with him before she left.
“Astrid, do you have my cell number?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“Good. Call me if you need anything. I’ll check in with you later, okay?”
Astrid took Tara’s hand. “I want to make sure you know that I understand why he loved you. You’re wonderful. It’s Miranda who makes me question his sanity.”
Tara was not about to wade into these waters. “Take care of yourself, Astrid.” She pecked her on the cheek then beelined over to Grant, and gripped his arm. “Can I steal you for a minute?”
“You can have me for a whole hour, if you want.” The hint of flirtation in his voice was impossible to miss.
She led him to the shade of a large island oak tree. “You don’t want to know what I could do to you in an hour.”
Grant smiled and removed his sunglasses, a few tiny crinkles gathering at the corners of his warm brown eyes. He ran his hand through his thick chestnut hair, and pushed it back from his face. He’d neatly groomed his five-o’clock shadow for the service, but it didn’t hide the sexy hints of salt and pepper along his jaw. Grant was the hunky boy next door, twenty years later, the sort of man who was comfortable with his good looks, but didn’t feel the need to flaunt it. He didn’t walk into a room thinking about the way the lines of his suit accented his broad shoulders. But every woman certainly took notice.
“You know, you threaten me with statements like that, but you never follow through. Why is that?” He punctuated his question with a sexy narrowing of his eyes.
“Johnathon would be horrified to know we’re flirting at his funeral.”
Grant shrugged. “He would’ve done the same thing if the roles had been reversed.”
“That’s absolutely true.”
He reached for her hand, gathering her fingers and holding them tight. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t give me the Tara Sterling, real estate agent to the stars answer, okay? I want the Tara Sterling, woman I’ve known since before she married my best friend answer.”
“I really am fine, but I think I’m still in shock. Ask me again in a week.”
He drew a deep breath in through his nose, but didn’t let go of her hand. “I hear you. I think I’m in the same boat.”
“I think Astrid jumped straight to full-blown grief.”
“I hate that Johnathon never told her that he’d remarried.”
“It sucks, but had they been in close communication? She was in Norway, after all. It makes sense that Johnathon and I would talk. We were always running into each other at parties or restaurants.”
“They were talking. For sure. He had his chance.” He gently let go of his grip on her hand and Tara couldn’t escape
