Sinful Desires Vol. 5 by M. S. Parker Page B

a text telling him I was here if he needed me, and then waited for him to initiate contact. By Tuesday, without a word, I gave in and called. It had gone to voicemail and I left a stumbling message, telling him I'd seen the funeral announcement in the paper and that I'd be there if he needed to talk. I told myself that I'd had a good reason to call and that, this time, I'd wait until he reached out first.
    By Tuesday night, I tried texting. Then another two calls on Wednesday. I texted him on Thanksgiving, but received no response. Not even a cursory return of my 'Happy Thanksgiving' greeting. Friday, I placed two calls, though I'd been tempted to do more. I hated looking like I was needy, but the silence was unnerving. I was worried about him. I missed him. Now, I was walking into the church with Anastascia and had absolutely no clue how I was supposed to handle seeing him again.
    “How do you want to play this?” Anastascia asked as we approached the receiving line at the front of the sanctuary.
    “Damned if I know,” I muttered, biting the inside of my lip.
    She and I got in line behind some people that I recognized from the cover of Forbes magazine. I'd only met Julien's parents once and didn't know anyone else in the family, so I kept things simple. A handshake and a murmur of condolences got me up to Mrs. Atwood. I repeated what I'd said before, but my “so sorry for your loss” was more heartfelt as I looked into her sad face. She was impeccably dressed, her hair and make-up perfect, but no matter how expertly it had been applied, I could still see the circles under her eyes. I remembered what Julien had said, how his parents had been arguing when his father collapsed. I could only imagine the guilt she must be feeling.
    And then I was moving along and Julien was right there. A million questions came into my head, but I didn't let them out. He looked like he'd aged ten years since I'd last seen him, even though it had been only a week. My heart ached for him. I opened my arms and, after a brief hesitation, he stepped into my embrace.
    “I'm so sorry,” I said.
    I felt a tremor go through his body and his arms tightened around me for the briefest of moments. I inhaled deeply, indulging myself for a few seconds as his scent carried me back to that night. Then he was releasing me and taking a step a backwards, putting distance between us.
    “Thank you for coming.” His voice was stiff and he didn't meet my eyes. He seemed to be looking everywhere but at me.
    “Of course.” I was surprised that I managed not to let the words betray the stab of hurt that went through me. He was grieving. I had no right to have expectations of his behavior. I repeated that to myself as Anastascia and I found seats. It didn't lessen the pain and only made me feel guilty. It wasn't only my questions, though. Those were easier than I'd thought to hold back. No, I simply wanted to be there for him. Be his friend, as he’d always been to me. I wanted to put my arms around him and hold him, try to take away his pain.
    “Piper.”
    A low male voice said my name and I turned, starting to smile. The expression froze when I saw Reed taking a seat across the aisle. I forced myself to finish the smile. I still hadn't figured out how I felt about the other morning. Every time I tried to think about it, I started worrying about how Julien was doing. Reed really did have awful timing.
    “Hi.”
    “Can I talk to you?”
    I shook my head. “Not now.” I gestured toward the front of the sanctuary where the family was moving to their seats.
    “Do you know what you're going to say to Reed?” Anastascia whispered as a priest slowly walked across the platform to stand on the other side of the casket.
    “Nope, not a clue.” I pulled my coat more tightly around my shoulders. Winter had come with a vengeance yesterday, blasting Philadelphia with cold air and flurries of snow too dry to stick. I'd only been in Vegas a couple of years, but the