22
Julia
The Wright family was dressed in black.
Black suits. Black dresses. Black heels.
A black hat with mesh to obscure Sutton’s swollen red eyes.
Black gloves that did nothing to obscure her shaking hands.
Normally, this would have suited me. Black was my favorite color. But today was a day of mourning. Black, a color of death. And the funeral for Maverick Wright was under way.
I still couldn’t believe it had all happened. Sutton had found a man she loved beyond words. Sure, it hadn’t been easy. She’d gotten pregnant too soon, had the wedding too soon. By societal standards, she and Maverick should have never worked in the first place. I’d been at the wedding. I’d heard what everyone had said.
But they’d defied those standards. They’d laughed in the face of everyone’s judgment.
