Married to Lust.

One.

On the day of my husbands funeral, I wore a sleeveless black dress that had been hanging in the back of my closet for the last six years of our marriage. I hadn't been allowed to wear it, because it was clearly to revealing of a married woman, let alone the wife of a prominent cop. Vic was always on top of what I was to wear and what I was and wasn't supposed to show to the public. My body, my skin, was his and his alone to see.

It showcased all the bruises I'd been hiding all ths time. The purple hand prints married my upper arms and red welts lingered on my pale skin. I didn't even care that his parents and friends were all there. I stood at the head of his casket and watched as they lowered the sleek, black tomb in to the ground.

I don't want to come off as a cold-hearted bitch, because I wasn't. I definitely loved my husband, even for all his faults and flaws- especially the one where he liked to punch me around. My feelings over his death were... complicated. I'd been with one man my entire life and now he was gone and I was free. I was no longer suffocated by his overbearing presence, but I also felt painfully alone.

Once the diggers started throwing dirt on his coffin and the 21 guns had been fired, the cowd dispersed. They were heading back to our house for us all " to grieve as a family." But I stayed put and when I spared a glance up around me, I noticed all the beat cops and cruiseres were gone, all but one.

Vics former partner, Alexander Valentine, stood a few feet away in his dress blues and his head down low. He seemed to silently praying as the last of the grave was filled. The priest was gone now as well. I had been supposed to lay the first rose on his casket as they had lowered him in the ground, but it still hung from my numb fingers. I let it fall to the soggy dirt under my feet and sucked in a sharp breath.

Alex seemed to finally realize he wasn't alone and his eyes snapped up to meet mine. Those green emeralds bore in to me for what seemed like an eternity with anger, before they finally softened and fell to my arms.

" I'm going to head back, " I said quietly. " You're welcome to join us back at the house for food and refreshments. The whole force will be there from what I hear."

" I'll walk you to your car, Elizabeth." He finally replied and he followed me back down the grassy hill of the cemetary to the parking lot where my old Jeep sat. His police cruiser was only a few spots away. It wasn't hard to recognize. He and Vic had driven the same Crown Victoria for all 6 years of our marriage and maybe even before that.

Alex stopped just short of my driver side door and waited for me to catch up in my heels. His eyes didn't meet mine as I stood there, just narrowed on the bruises that dotted my flesh. No doubt he was feeling conflicted about his best friend.

" You coming back to the house?" I asked, nervously, anything to break the silence. " Vics mother made that pasta salad that you always liked at our get togethers."

" Why didn't you tell me, Elizabeth?" He said, sounding very distant and annoyed. " I know Vic and I were partners, but we were friends, too. You could have told me."

I sighed, paused and said, " no, I couldn't."

He finally looked me in the eye, but I couldn't take it. It was rougher than the ghost of Vics hands on my body. I turned away, opened my door, and slid behind the wheel.

" You're still welcome in my house, Alex." I said, shutting the door and finally heading back to my house.

My mother-in-law had already let everyone in and there were cops, cousins, and distant family members milling around my house. A low murmur was the constant sound around me and I tried to hide in the kitchen and clean up after everyone who came in to grab the finger foods and drinks that had been left on the island. Shuffling a platter of crackers and cheeses, I accidentally knocked off my glass of wine and it shattered on the tile floor.