Patrick looked at me.
“Myself, probably.”
Before I could answer, Alice spoke from behind us.
“There’s something else.”
We turned.
She was standing in the kitchen doorway.
Aaron’s expression told me he already knew.
Alice looked at her father.
“I met Lana.”
Patrick went completely still.
“What?”
“Two months ago.”
“You met her?”
“Aaron took me.”
Patrick looked at Aaron.
He nodded.
“She was sick.”
His thumb moved across the tattoo.
“Very sick.”
Alice took Aaron’s hand.
“She died three weeks later.”
Patrick sat down.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” Aaron said.
Alice continued.
“One afternoon, Aaron stepped outside while I stayed with her.”
She looked at Patrick.
“She asked where I came from.”
My husband didn’t move.
“I told her.”
“And?”
“We talked.”
Alice swallowed.
“Then she looked at me for a really long time.”
Patrick’s fingers tightened.
“She said I had kind eyes.”
Aaron looked at Alice.
“You never told me that.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
She looked at Patrick.
“Then Lana said there was something familiar about them.”
Nobody spoke.
“She didn’t know who I was,” Alice continued. “She couldn’t have. I didn’t even know Dad knew her.”
“Maybe you reminded her of something,” I said.
“Maybe.”
Alice squeezed Aaron’s hand.
“But after tonight, it feels different.”
Then she laughed nervously.
“This whole thing is insane.”
“That,” I said, “we can agree on.”
“But I’m also glad.”
“Glad?”
“That somehow our families crossed paths before either Aaron or I knew.”
She looked at him.
“I know that sounds strange.”
“It doesn’t.”
Alice took a breath.
“I know three months sounds crazy.”
“It sounds fast.”
“Very fast.”
“But when I’m with him, it doesn’t feel reckless.”
Aaron didn’t interrupt.
He didn’t try to sell us a love story.
I appreciated that.
Alice continued.
“Aaron’s lost both his parents. I know that affects how he thinks about time and family. But I’m not marrying him because I feel sorry for him.”
