something that belonged to me.
The right to know the final chapter of my own husband’s life.
“Did he talk about me?” I finally asked.
Adrian’s expression softened.
“All the time.”
“What did he say?”
He looked down at James’s duffel.
“That conversation will take longer than we have standing here.”
“Then start walking.”
I pointed outside.
“You’re telling me everything.”
We began walking toward a veterans’ center a few blocks away.
Adrian carried James’s duffel.
I carried the roses.
Halfway there, I suddenly stopped.
“One more question.”
Adrian turned.
