My Fiancé Chose My Best Friend-At My Dad’s Funeral novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Boxes

At Braden's apartment Lenora is wearing Tilda's robe and neither of them denies it; Braden asks too fast where Tilda got the key.

Alexander drove me to Shadyside without asking a single question.

He parked at the curb under Braden's building and turned off the engine.

"I'll wait," he said.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

He had two flattened boxes in his trunk left over from an office move. He handed them to me and I went up the stairs.

The light was on in the apartment. I could hear a cork.

I let myself in with the key I still had.

Braden sat on the couch with his tie off and a glass of wine in his hand.

Lenora stood at the kitchen counter in my gray bathrobe.

The one my father had given me, with my initials sewn on the pocket.

For a moment nobody spoke.

"I told you she'd come," Braden said. He didn't sound surprised. He sounded tired.

"Tilda." Lenora set her glass down and came toward me with her arms already open. "Honey. I'm so sorry. We were going to tell you."

"When?"

She stopped.

"After the funeral," Braden said. "We didn't want to do it before. We're not monsters."

"You laughed through my father's hymn."

"That was a bad moment." He rubbed his eyes. "It's been a bad week for everyone."

I looked at my best friend in my robe.

"How long?"

Lenora glanced at Braden. He gave her a tiny nod.

"A while," she said. "It started before you and Braden got engaged."

I had to put my hand on the doorframe.

"Before," I said.

"It wasn't supposed to be serious," Lenora said. "Then it was. We just didn't know how to tell you without wrecking everything."

"So you let him buy me a ring."

"Til." She put her palm over her heart. "You're my sister. I love you. That was never fake."

I almost believed her. That was the worst part. Her eyes were wet and she meant every word of it.

Braden stood up and set his glass on the table.

"Here's what I think," he said, in the voice he used on juries. "We're all adults. Nothing has to blow up. You're grieving. Nora and I will keep it quiet, and you and I will take a few weeks, and we'll see where we are."

"You want me to marry you," I said.

"I want you to stop making decisions in the worst week of your life."

"While she stays in my robe."

"That's not fair," Lenora said softly.

I walked past them into the bedroom.

I packed in twelve minutes. Three cardigans, my work shoes, the photo of my father in his jacket and the flannel shirt of his that I slept in. I left the dresses. I didn't want to see them in the light.

When I came out with a box on my hip, Lenora was blocking the hallway.

"Don't take that folder," she said gently. "Please. Those are your father's private papers. You don't know what's in them."

"Do you?"

She blinked. "No. I just mean legal documents are tricky for someone in grief."

"Then it's a good thing I know three lawyers," I said. "Oh wait."

Lenora flinched.

I stepped around her.

Braden's eyes dropped to the keys in my hand. I had pulled them from my coat to leave the apartment key on the counter.

My father's brass key hung with the others.

The paper tag was still on it.

Braden went very still.

"Where did you get that?" he said.

It came out too fast. There was no breath in it at all.

"It was in my father's things."

"Let me see it."

"No."

"Tilda." He took a step toward me. "Where exactly did that key open?"

Lenora put her hand on his sleeve.

It was only for a second. But it was the first time I had ever seen her stop him from saying something in front of me.

I put the key back in my coat pocket.

"Keep the robe," I told her. "I wouldn't wear anything that's been in a room with you."

I set the apartment key on the counter, picked up my box and left.

Alexander was standing on the curb with his hand on the open car door.

He looked at my face and at the box and didn't say anything.

He took the box from me and put it in the trunk.

When we pulled away I looked up at the lit window on the third floor.

Braden was standing in it with his phone to his ear.

He wasn't looking at me.

He was looking at the black car I was getting into, and he was already talking.

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