Jason didn’t seem embarrassed.
If anything, he looked irritated that people were staring.
He walked directly toward the front row.
Lily’s family row.
And Rachel sat beside him.
Then, as though this were the most natural thing in the world, Rachel leaned her head against his shoulder.
My hands curled into fists.
I started to stand.
My father grabbed my wrist.
“Not here, Em.”
“He brought her to Lily’s funeral.”
“I know.”
“She was pregnant with his child.”
“I know.”
“And he’s sitting there with the woman he was cheating with.”
My father’s jaw tightened.
“Not here.”
So I stayed seated.
But I watched Jason.
I watched everything.
The way he never looked at Lily’s photograph.
The way he avoided my mother’s eyes.
The way Rachel whispered something into his ear.
The way he gently squeezed her hand.
He looked less like a grieving husband and more like a man attending the funeral of someone whose death had inconvenienced him.
