A Beautiful Funeral: A Novel (Maddox Brothers Book 5) by Jamie McGuire

know. The kids don’t, but I do. They don’t know what happened. They don’t know I deserve this.”
    “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
    “They don’t deserve this, though. We’re better than this, Falyn.”
    “Taylor, don’t.” I stood, walking past him. He gently caught my arm, and it took all of my strength not to fall into him. I’d missed his touch, being so close to him, hearing his voice in the same room, watching him watch me.
    “I still love you,” he said, anger on the edge of his words. I couldn’t blame him. Our family was broken, and our children were hurting.
    “I know,” I said. My resentment wouldn’t let me say anything else, and I pulled away from him to walk to the end of the hall.
    Taylor gathered a few boxes, taped them together for the kids, and then returned, helping me to load my things into the cardboard. We gathered socks from the drawers and shoes and Halloween buckets from the top of the closet. I’d missed how tall Taylor was, too. He could reach everything I couldn’t. He could lift and open everything I couldn’t and sometimes, even if I could, just so I could watch him do it.
    “I still love you, too,” I said. Taylor turned around, an indistinguishable expression on his face. “And I miss you. Maybe the kids are smarter than I am on this one. Maybe we should try to fix this from the inside out instead of hurting the kids while I pretend to wait for an epiphany.”
    “Is that what you’re doing? Hoping for a sign that I’ve changed?” He took a step toward me, dropping everything in his hands. “Because baby, I’ve changed. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose the kids. I—”
    My phone buzzed, cutting him off. I looked around, touching my jeans pockets. It buzzed again, and Taylor pointed at the stack of towels.
    “It’s coming from there,” he said, stepping toward the bed. “It’s late. Think it’s Ellie?”
    “Oh, yeah. I—” Oh. Fuck.
    Before I could stop him, Taylor lifted the towels and picked up my phone, his face instantly twisting into disgust. “Why the fuck is Peter Lacy calling you? How does he have your number, Falyn?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, reaching for my phone. “It doesn’t matter. I never respond.”
    Recognition lit Taylor’s eyes, and he became angrier. “How many times has he contacted you? What the fuck, Falyn? Is this why you want to move back?”
    My mouth fell open. “No! And he hasn’t contacted me at all because I don’t answer!”
    “How did he get your fucking number?” Taylor screamed. His veins were bulging from his neck, his eyes practically glowing and wild. His chest was heaving, and I could see the restraint. He wanted to punch something or someone. If Peter had been there, he might have killed him. I remembered now. The man standing in front of me now was the Taylor I left.
    My eyes fell to the floor. The hope I’d had just moments before gone. When I looked up again, and Taylor’s eyes met mine, I could see the anger melt away and shame take over. Even then, he couldn’t let go. He picked up the stack of towels and shoved them into the box on top of some trinkets, ripping at the tape and slamming it across the top. He grabbed a thick black marker and wrote master across the top and then hurled the box into the corner of the room behind the door, its contents scattering.
    Two dark silhouettes were standing in the hall, and when I realized the kids were present once again for the shitshow that was our marriage, I covered my mouth, unable to stop the tears from falling.
    “No, baby, don’t cry…” Taylor glanced down at the hall. “I’m sorry,” he said to the kids. He sat on the bed, hunched over. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.
    “Can we still go?” Hadley asked, stepping from out of the shadow of the hall.
    “I’m still going,” Hollis said.
    I wiped my cheeks and walked to the doorway, holding Hollis and Hadley as if they might shatter like the ceramics in