Chapter 3: You came.

The funeral draws something out of me.

From the fact that no one in the Finn household seemed to care that my grandmother had died, down to Malachi’s nonchalance about her death and his sustained anger at what happened with Skye.

My heart throbs and aches while I have to carry out the preparations for the funeral myself and the day comes on a windy morning.

“You should eat something, Antonia.” The concerned voice from behind me says but I can’t seem to hear it. Another voice comes, “You look stressed, Antonia, and…. This isn’t the time to stop eating. You’ll get over this.”

I nod dully as memories of my grandmother come back to me. 

Memories of her braiding my hair, then loosening it out to brush it again. She’d tell me often of how she’d met my grandfather. How he’d loved her and pursued her endlessly for her love. How they both ran away from home, to start a new life in the city, and how they’d lived content lives in their small house.

A tear rolls down my cheek because I promised to take her all over the world. 

I promised her we’d see France together, that we’d wink scandalously at handsome Spanish men, that we’d laugh and live, bright and happy, and that she would see me in a happy marriage. That… 

That I'd have a husband that loved me, and respected me.

More tears drop from my eyes but I wipe them, keeping a sob in as I move to the coffin and gaze at the face of my grandmother once more. Her expression is now one of rest, and I smile at that, happy to believe that she is at rest. My smile wobbles as I put her favorite things into the coffin. 

Her favorite knitted sweater. Her best shoes. Her photobook.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to find out who it is, but I already do immediately his voice speaks.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Antonia.”

My eyes meet with metallic gray ones, and I look away once again as my eyes fill with tears. It’s Tieran Blackstone. Malachi’s uncle, and the only one that shows me any kindness in the Finn household. He’s always a delight to have when he’s around, and amidst the surprise that forms on my lips is a warmth that blooms in me at the sight of him.

“You came.”

Tieran nods and his words ring in my soul when he speaks because of how sincere they sound. “I hate that you’re going through this, Antonia.”

Tieran’s voice is a rich scratchy baritone, and he towers over me, a good bit taller than Malachi. He still has the same features that make heads turn wherever he goes. Startling metallic ash - silver eyes, thick but well kept dark hair, a well sculpted face. Despite myself, I chuckle, feeling a bit of my sadness abate and my breath returns as I look at the coffin. I look at my grandma’s face and find my voice coming back with a surge of bravery. I speak though my voice cracks.

“It’s the way of all life I guess. I’m sure one day we’ll see each other again.”

Tieran’s voice is somber but witty, fitting the mood of a burial as he asks, “In a field of grass and her favorite flowers?”

I chuckle a bit, a sliver of genuine laughter coming from my lips as I think about it, “No. My grandmother wouldn’t agree to meet me there.” I sigh wistfully as I think on it, “She’d have loved the Eiffel tower. Or that hotel you own in Cape Verde.”

There’s amusement in his tone as he asks, “The Immaculate?”

I nod and respond with a wry smile on my li[ps, “That very one”.

I reach out to close the lid of the coffin, the action slow, but steady, because she can be laid to rest now.  I wish her goodbye with a whisper on my lips, “Till we meet again.” 

The graveyard is empty, except for the headstones, me, and the men with shovels. Only I and some of my friends were around for the ceremony, but I didn't let them put her in just yet. I still wanted a few more moments with her.

“I dragged someone here along with me to see you.”

Tieran’s rough scratchy voice sends shivers down my spine, but when I turn to look at him, his dull silver eyes already tell me I know about who he’s brought.

Just a few paces behind us, Malachi stands, a hand in his pocket, sunshades on though the day is anything but sunny.  He doesn’t even make an attempt to come near me. Tieran speaks again, “I apologize on behalf of my family Antonia, for their behavior, especially during this time of your life.”

I ask with a feeling of anger and bitterness in my chest, “What was HIS excuse for not coming?”

I don’t know why I ask the question, just that it sets a low flame of anger burning in my heart to see him here. Tieran’s response is one I already expected, “Sienna heard of the argument you had with Skye, and forbade him from coming.”

I scoff, because I already knew Sienna Finn does not like me. She’s never liked me since the moment I got married to her precious son. Yet if it was Skye’s dog that died, Malachi would be at its funeral. They would all be at its funeral.

Tieran opens the umbrella in his hand and hands it over me the minute the rain starts to shower. He excuses us, and Malachi opens his too and begins to walk away towards the receiving hall, but I shout his name out, the wind doing nothing to cool the feelings burning inside me.

“Malachi!”

Malachi stops, and a question falls off my lips immediately, my tone shaky and hurt, “Why?”

Through all the pain I have endured in the past few days, I know he could have been there for me if he wanted to. Though I already know what could have held him back, I also know if he wanted to, he could have come here.

I ask again, my voice braver this time, “Why weren’t you here at the funeral?”

Malachi’s gaze goes to glower, because he hates being spoken to like this, least of all by me. I watch as he walks forward and stretches a bouquet of roses out to me. 

“For your grandmother. I had some work to attend to.”

There’s a lack of emotion on his face and there’s still a price tag on the bouquet. I take it from him and fling it away as far and as fast as I can. 

My body turns shaky, and maybe it’s because of the answers I need, maybe it’s because of the pain I've been feeling, but  the umbrella in my hands falls and tears slide down my cheeks as I ask him, “Why do you hate me, Malachi?”

He goes rigid and doesn’t respond but I ask again, “Why do you hate me, Malachi! Is it because I got married to you?”

Malachi turns and heads into the funeral home, and I stand there, multiple emotions running through me, because I'd entertained the thought that he’d filed for a divorce. If he had it would have made sense.

No one treats a person they’re married to this way.

I shed a few tears in the rain but I clean them up, and once inside the hall, Teiran helps me distribute the rest of the gifts I had packaged. I planned to take all of them over to an orphanage home nearby and distribute them, but Tieran invited people over. He literally dragged the men he was meant to have a meeting with today, and brought them to my grandmother’s funeral.

Notable business moguls from all around the world sit in the small receiving room of the cemetery. They smile at me, and they all wish me their sincerest condolences, before accepting the gifts and taking their leave.

I give Tieran a conspiratorial look, my heart beating with a strange strange kind of gratefulness, a look to which he responds with a grin and a chuckle. Malachi sits at one side of the room chatting with a lady who promptly takes her leave after a cold look from Tieran.

When Tieran goes out to pick a call, Malachi finally makes his way to me in the hallway and the look on his face is bland and cold as he speaks, “I’m sorry for your loss, Antonia.”

I note the passive aggressiveness in his tone. The clench in his jaw from being forced to witness my outburst. My response is clean and clinical, lacking any emotion and being as frank as possible, “I don’t much see why you care. Move, Malachi.”

The response rocks him off his feet.

“Did you just speak to me like that?”

This time I walk past him.  His shoulders might be broad but they’re not broad enough to occupy the whole hallway. Malachi follows me to the main hall and glares at me from the entrance to the hallway. I sit on one of the seats, a light headache roaring through my head as I glance at him and his wrathful expression.

His black suit is tailored to perfection, but I can't even bring it up in me to notice that in a good way. The sight of him is like a sore to my eyes. His voice and tone are tight when he speaks,

“I’ll understand that you’re hurting, Antonia, but under no circumstances should you speak to me like that again. I’m your husband.”

I scoff. His phone rings and he picks it up. His eyes are cold when he sets them on me and his tone dismissive and glum when he cuts the call and speaks, “I have something important to attend to.”

I nod as I ask, “Is it important, or is that the new name you’ve reserved for Skye and the baby she’s carrying for you?”

Malachi doesn’t even have the decency to look shocked. 

His jaw tenses in annoyance and he grits out again, “Don’t talk to me like that.”

I keep my tone relaxed as I respond, “Why?”

“I’m your husband!”

The sound of his bellow rocks through the room, and the old Antonia would have felt sad.  The old Antonia would have felt intimidated. I lock my eyes with his and I stare into his cold heartless soul as I respond, “Not anymore, Malachi Finn.”

I see light confusion cloud Malachi’s face but I continue regardless, “I’ve filed for a divorce.”

“You don’t care about me. You don’t have any regard for our marriage. I was foolish to ever think my love could change you, so I'll be speaking to you however I want from now on.

You can leave.”