He handed me a cup of coffee.
“You know,” he said, “Richard was right about one thing.”
“Only one?”
He smiled.
“You were the person least interested in power.”
“That sounds like a compliment.”
“It is.”
I looked toward the garden.
Sofia and Ethan were leaving beneath a tunnel of sparklers.
Daniel was arguing with Marcus about who had stolen the last piece of cake.
Life looked impossibly ordinary.
Beautifully ordinary.
Alexander said quietly, “I lost ten years.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t get them back.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But maybe I can stop losing the years ahead.”
I knew what he meant.
Not romance.
Not exactly.
Something quieter.
A chance to become family again in whatever shape survived.
I touched his hand.
“Then stop leaving.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
Three months after Sofia’s wedding, one final envelope arrived at my house.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
