Maybe they didn’t make dresses that could carry that much b.o.o.b without some of it spilling out, I thought snidely.  Yes, I knew it was b.i.t.c.hy.

The only telltale sign of her grief at first sight were her slightly red eyes, and the fact that she threw herself into Tristan’s big arms the second she saw him.

I determined not to say a word.  They’d been close friends for years, and I didn’t blame her for needing a hug.  There was endless comfort to be found in Tristan’s arms.  I never imagined I’d been the only one to notice.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” I told her.

She didn’t look at or acknowledge me, throwing her arms around Tristan’s neck, and burying her face against his throat.

Tristan patted her back, sending me a helpless sort of look.

I gave a little shrug.  It was awkward.  I didn’t know what to do either, so I gave them s.p.a.ce.

I offered my condolences to the rest of Tony’s family, who all stood in a line.  I didn’t go to the casket.  I didn’t think it was necessary.

I was infinitely relieved when I saw a familiar face in the form of Bianca.  I rushed to her, giving her a quick hug.

She looked good in black, her light skin luminous.  She barely wore a sc.r.a.p of makeup, just a touch of mascara and some light pink gloss on her lips, but she didn’t need any more than that.  She was stunning, with those incredible icy blue eyes of hers.  They were hauntingly pale and expressive.  Her all black attire only seemed to enhance the effect.

“Hey,” she said in a hushed voice, a world of affection in that one neutral word.

“Did you know Tony?”

She shook her head.  “No, I’m just here for James.”

I glanced around.  “Where is James?”

“Talking to the family.”

I spotted him even as she spoke.  He was patting Tony’s wife’s hand while she spoke to him earnestly, tears running down her cheeks.

“You’re here with Tristan?” she asked in that soft-spoken way of hers, studying my face.  I knew we confused the h.e.l.l out of everyone.  No one could ever keep track of if we were even speaking to each other.

“Yes.  I didn’t know Tony either.”

“Let’s sit down.  I don’t think anyone cares if we make our rounds and mingle here or not.”

I smiled at the way she said it, as though mingling were the bane of her existence.  “Does James make you mingle often?” I asked.

Her nose wrinkled.  “He tries.  Now ask me if he succeeds.”

I bit my lip, trying not to smile.  “I don’t think I need to.”

“I guess you could say I mingle if by that you mean, does he stay glued to my side wherever we go.  He has to talk to people.  They come up to him everywhere.  I don’t see why that means that I should have to talk to them all or listen to them, for that matter.”

“You make a good point.”

“Where is Tristan?” she asked, looking around.

“In the foyer with Mona.”

“Oh.”

The way she said it made a corner of my mouth turn up.  I shot her an amused look.

“You’re surprised that I left him out there with her,” I guessed, my voice a low whisper.

“Yeah, that’s what the ‘oh’ meant,” she whispered back.

“It’s her dad’s funeral.  I’d feel like a b.i.t.c.h if I got jealous about her grabby hands today.”

“Just how grabby are they?” She sounded intrigued.

“I have a feeling you’ll get to see for yourself.

As I spoke, Mona and Tristan pa.s.sed by our seats, going to the front row.

Mona was walking with both arms wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder.

I had the uncharitable thought that she was milking this for all it was worth.

Tristan sat down with her, his head bent down to hers.  He was speaking quietly, his voice too soft for me to hear from this distance.

It seemed to take a lot of time and effort, but he disentangled himself from her, and stood, striding to where Bianca and I sat, and taking a seat close at my right.

“Hey,” he said to Bianca with a small smile.

She smiled back.  “Hey.”

“I’d hug you, or shake your hand, but James threatened to put a hit out on me if I so much as touched you with my pinkie.”

She bit her lip to hide a smile.  “I think you made that up.”

“Keep living in that dream world of yours, where James isn’t a nutcase, but if you ever get over the Stockholm syndrome, just signal to one of us, and we’ll get you out.  Wink three times if you want us to help you escape.”

She covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling.  “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“I know you are.  I look forward to it.”

He turned to me, his face turning serious.  “Tony’s family has asked me to sit up front.  Would you like to come with me, or are you more comfortable sitting with James and Bianca?”

I didn’t hesitate.  The idea of sitting in the family row at a funeral of a man I’d never met made me highly uncomfortable.  “I’ll stay with Bianca.”

He just nodded and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before getting up and going back to Mona.

I didn’t realize Frankie was there until she was stroking a hand over my hair as she moved past me down our aisle.

She and Bianca were friends, but Bianca’s hair didn’t get the same treatment.  James had very strange rules about who could touch Bianca, even if it was just casually.

For instance, I could hug her, or kiss her cheek, or stroke her hair right now, and he wouldn’t be bothered.  At least, I didn’t think he would.

If Frankie or Tristan did any of those things, though, it was a fact he wouldn’t take it so well.

James was crazy about Bianca.  Literally crazy.

Whatever strange rules they had for each other, though (and there were a lot) it seemed to make perfect sense to them, and no one could say it wasn’t working.

I knew more about the inner workings of their relationship than most.  Bianca had opened up about it over the many hours I’d posed for her.

For instance, she had a gorgeous choker around her neck that I’d just thought was an obscenely expensive piece of jewelry.  I’d learned that not only did James refer to it as her collar, but he never let her take it off, in fact it was locked on, and he had the key.