“I understand.”
“And the next time the truth is uncomfortable, trust me enough to hear it anyway.”
“I will.”
A few weeks later, Alice and Aaron came back for lunch.
They were still engaged.
But they weren’t rushing to choose a wedding date.
That was their decision.
Patrick and I were still talking too.
Sometimes painfully.
Sometimes awkwardly.
But honestly.
Halfway through lunch, Aaron removed his jacket.
Lana’s portrait appeared again.
Patrick noticed.
This time, he didn’t go pale.
Instead, he smiled.
“She hated tattoos.”
Aaron laughed.
“Especially this one.”
Patrick looked surprised.
“She knew about it?”
“I got it while she was alive.”
“What did she say?”
“That you made me look old.”
Patrick laughed.
A real laugh.
“That sounds like her.”
Alice caught my eye.
I smiled.
And nobody changed the subject.
Nobody needed to.
For years, Patrick had treated Lana’s memory as though simply speaking about her might threaten everything he’d built afterward.
It didn’t.
