Ch. 8: An Unexpected Guest

There were things Nina had learned never to say aloud, and most of them were about she.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Nina said. "I'm asking you to listen." "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Nina said. "I'm asking you to listen."

There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do. Nina crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way she was watching without seeming to. Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most.

The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Nina said. "I'm asking you to listen." She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more.

Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. "You shouldn't have come," she said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to.

They did not speak for a long moment. Some silences carry more than words ever could, and this was one of them.

There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do. For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. "You shouldn't have come," she said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to.