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We’d grown up together.

That was my cousin.

And I’d sat in that girl’s face knowing I was fucking her husband.

There wasn’t any cute way to dress that shit up.

No excuse that made it better.

I’d fucked up.

Period.

And now Xay’s bitch ass was dead.

I stopped counting my money for a second.

His funeral flashed through my mind.

All those people.

All those flowers.

That big-ass picture of him smiling like he hadn’t left complete fucking chaos behind.

But what I remembered most was Sam.

She stood at that casket longer than everybody else.

I had watched from a few rows back while she leaned over him.

Her hand rested against the edge of the casket.

Then she bent down close to his face.

And said something.

Nobody heard it.

At least I didn’t.

She stayed there for another few seconds before standing straight again.

Her face was wet.

But calm.

Too calm almost.

Then she walked away.

I remember wondering what she’d said to him.

Goodbye?

Fuck you?

I love you?