But that isn’t what she left me with.”
I asked the question I had carried for a decade.
“Did she know I loved her?”
Trudy answered immediately.
“Yes.”
That was the first thing she had given me that didn’t feel like another wound.
That evening, Lucas found the photograph on the kitchen table.
“That’s him, isn’t it?”
My first instinct was to hide it.
Instead, I turned off the faucet, dried my hands, and sat across from him.
“Yes.”
“Did he know about me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why wasn’t he here?”