"He didn't listen."
She smiles. "He was headstrong."
"A Pierce curse."
"He convinced me." She breaks her toast in half. "I didn't think it would happen, but he did. He brought color to my life, one shade at a time. Then one day, I woke up and everything was bright, and I believed I deserved love. I made plans. I was ready."
"That was when—"
"A few weeks later."
"Did Cole know?"
"I didn't tell him," she says. "But he sees everything."
He put the pieces together. The changes in her behavior. The arrangements she made. The glow of love.
It surrounded both of them.
It was as bright as anything Bash did.
"It wasn't the first time I thought about leaving," she says. "Or took steps. But it was the first time I had a reason." She rubs her wrist. "An outside reason. Then…" Then Bash died.
Adam was in critical condition.
The rest of us didn't know how to survive.
"Grief consumed me," she says. "I lost my nerve. Lost my drive. I believed it was an accident. Even with the timing. Even after I realized Cole was suspicious. Even after I realized I had to leave for Seb…"
"When did you see it?"
"A friend confessed," she says. "She'd seen me with Bash. Mentioned it on accident. Cole is charming when he wants to be. She didn't know… she didn't realize…"
A friend, trying to do the right thing, tell a man about his wife's affair.
"He was suspicious," she says. "Whenever I met someone. No, when I was happy. He assumed it was that. Long before it was. Then… maybe he already knew. Maybe he always knew. I'm not sure."
"I hired an investigator."
"What did you find?"
"Nothing legal. Noting I can use against him. But enough I know."
"I don't have anything there." She stares at her mug. "I'm sorry."
"He hurt you?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry." I would have said something different a few days ago. Something stupid. Now?
I understand.
Love is a tangled mess.
"I wish I did," she says. "I wish this went differently. I wish I could go back to that day. Go to a different hotel. Beg my friend not to say anything. But I…"
"You'd never erase your son."
"No. Of course not."
"He wouldn't want that."
"I know," she says. "I loved him."
I doubted that.
I didn't believe it.
I thought she was a bored housewife, looking for an escape.
But she did love him. It's everywhere. It fills the room.
"I didn't believe him," I say. "When he told me. I'm sorry."
"You didn't know me."
"But I knew him. And the way he talked about you… I should have believed him."
"What did he say?"
"Things I shouldn't repeat."
She smiles. "He had a way, didn't he?"
"He did."
"He was the only person who still used the term 'making love.'"
"Actually bringing it into the universe?" I quote him.
"More with every kiss, every breath, every groan," she finishes the quote.
The silence falls.
We miss him.
We can't do anything to bring him back.
"I've been lost a long time," she says. "But I've grieved, I've put myself back together. You… you haven't done that, have you?"
"No," I admit.
"Bash talked about you. How smart and strong and sure you were. Even now, I can see it. You're tough. Practical. Logical."
"We were different."
"Very." She smiles. "He would have stopped and felt it. Maybe too much. But you… you can't run from pain, Simon. It will catch up with you. I wish I could do something to make that easier. Make it better. But I can't. And Bash… he wouldn't want you to carry this burden forever."
"He wouldn't want me miserable."
"But you have to feel it. If you ever want to move forward."
She sounds like him.
The man who embraces every feeling, ugly or beautiful.
Who sings love songs on long walks.
Who savors life.
But she isn't Bash.
Bash is gone forever.
My baby brother.
I failed to protect him.
I can't fail to protect his son too.
I have to make it right.
The way he would want.
It will destroy me either way.
But this—
I thought I owed him something else, making an effort to love, to find love, to at least fuck Vanessa.
And I did.
But this—
This is what he meant.
Choosing love.
Choosing life.
No matter the cost.
Chapter Forty-One
SIMON
Celine and I finish breakfast without small talk. There's nothing to say.
Nothing to make this right or bring him back or erase the truth.
After I finish, she asks if I want to meet Seb properly.
I sit on the couch.
She smiles as he kicks at the air, scoops him into her arms, holds him to her chest.
This beautiful, graceful woman my brother loved.
This beautiful, graceful woman my brother wanted to marry.
And she's here, in my apartment, with their child, the picture of maternal affection.
Willing to do anything for their son.
I understand. Intellectually.
But when she shifts him into my arms, when I hold him, feel his tiny hand around my finger, watch his eyes move across the room—
Bash's eyes—
Bash's curiosity—
Bash's love of life and everything in it—
I understand on every fucking level.