“My dad grew up near here.”
***
Leo was my first love. He wasn’t Lila’s father. That was Matthew, my husband, who came years later and gave me my daughter before cancer took him when Lila was four.
I loved Matthew. Truly.
Leo was the unanswered question I carried quietly, the boy who vanished before life taught me how to survive losing people properly.
***
Julian watched me too closely.
He knew something.
Lila reached for his hand. “Tell her about the lake proposal.”
I loved Matthew. Truly.
“Lila,” he said softly.
“What?”
“Maybe later.”
That made me look up. Before I could ask, Julian tugged at his collar.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s really warm in here.”
He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
I saw the anchor first, small and dark on his forearm. Then I saw the letter curled into the rope.
E.
My fork slipped from my fingers and hit the plate hard enough to make Lila jump.
