“In fact”—he placed a hand gently over mine—“the crisis counselor at the hospital suggested taking some time off. A longer break. Focusing on”—he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully—“on your well-being. Less stress.”
I nodded again. His voice conveyed no judgment—just love and a terrifying amount of truth. He was worried this would be the thing that finally broke me. And honestly, no matter how strong I thought I was, right here, right now, I was afraid too. The thought of stepping into that building again made me physically ill.
“We could go on a trip,” he suggested. “Name any place. I know it all feels unreal right now, and if you need more time to think, that’s okay. But a change of pace might be what we need. I already emailed Cliff and told him to free my schedule for the next weeks.”
“Leaving Boston behind for a bit does sound nice,” I said.
It really did. I loved our home, but lately, it felt haunted. The nightmares clung to the walls, lingering in every corner like smoke that wouldn’t clear.
“We always talked about Italy. For our honeymoon,” Daniel said.
And we had. But with my NREM parasomnia disorder and everything in between, we kept putting it off.
“Italy would be nice,” I said.
“But?”
“It seems a bit far. What about something more local?”
The next words were already forming in my head before I even realized where they were heading. Cynthia had planted the seed right before she died. And now, it was growing roots.
“Sure,” Daniel said. “What were you thinking?”
I took a breath, steady and deep, but the second I exhaled, I said it.
“What about the Breakers?”
His mug slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor. I flinched as porcelain shattered, and hot coffee splashed across our feet. His expression froze. He looked stunned, pale, rattled.
“Shit, did I burn you?” he asked, rushing into the kitchen.
I didn’t answer, just watched him. Daniel never dropped things. Ever.
My eyes darted to Mochi’s cage. I expected him to stir. But the blanket was still draped over the cage, and he remained quiet. Fast asleep and undisturbed.
Daniel returned with a towel and crouched down, picking up the shards piece by piece. Then he wiped the floor with slow, careful movements. Mechanical, almost robotic. The silence between us stretched on.
I’d never seen him like this. Ruffled. Nervous.
“The Breakers,” he finally murmured. “Funny you say that. It’s my childhood home.” His voice was flat. When he looked up, our eyes locked.
“I...I know.” I tried to brush it off, to make it sound like less of a betrayal. But of course, he wanted to know where that name had come from.
“Cynthia told me about it.”
He went back to mopping. “I see.”
“During our last session, she mentioned that her brother recognized the name Winthrop. Said it was old Boston money.”
Daniel stood and carried the broken mug to the kitchen. He tossed the pieces into the trash before rinsing the towel under the faucet.
“It is,” he called over the running water. “But I have no family left up there. It’s just an empty place. And the weather’s terrible there right now. Violent spring storms almost every day.”
“Oh,” I said.
The water shut off, but Daniel stayed where he was, facing the sink, not turning around. I didn’t need to see his face to know that a war was raging within. I’d never seen him like this. Of course, I wanted to know what was going on inside him, but this wasn’t the moment to press. We didn’t need more stress. Possibly even a fight.
“About Italy,” I said, forcing a smile. “We always wanted to go there.”
