“Yeah, but…” She lifts her hands. “I brought it on myself by confronting him.”
Tucking the envelopes under my arm, I take her hand. “I’m glad he had you to confess to. I’m glad he had someone he could depend on.”
Her expression is a little sad, a little wistful. “He really did turn out to be a good guy, didn’t he?”
“He was always a good guy, Vee. He just wasn’t aperfectguy.”
The door creaks on its hinges when it opens behind us. I know it’s Luc before he says anything. Anytime he gets within three feet of me, the baby hair all over my body reaches for him. Like I’m metal and he’s a magnet.
“Everything okay out here, ladies?” he asks.
“Our girl’s been running all over hell’s half acre getting ready for this memorial service,” Vee says. “I think she just needed a breather.”
Luc squeezes my shoulder and plants a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “You reckon it’s possible to breathe and kiss at the same time?”
Vee chuckles. “I think I’m going to like having you for a brother-in-law. Y’all take your time out here.” She nods to the letters still tucked under my arm. “I’ll bring Yard in and make sure no one but Auntie June feeds him scraps under the table.”
Before she goes, I pull her in for a hug. “Thank you, Vee,” I whisper in her ear. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” She pats my back and then leads Yard inside the bar.
After she’s gone, Luc cocks his head at me. Then his gaze drops to the envelopes, and the blood drains from his face. He swings toward the back door, his expression surprised. “He gave the letters to Violet? You gotta be kidding me.”
“It’s a long story.” I hand him the envelope with his name on it. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
His throat works over a swallow as he stares down at the letter. “Is it crazy that part of me wants to rip this open and read it as quickly as I can, and another part of me never wants to set eyes on it?”
“You’re not crazy at all.” Tears prick behind my eyes for what seems like the millionth time today. “I feel the same way. I want to read it. I want to hear his voice in my head. But I don’t want to read it. I don’t want this to be the last time I hear his voice in my head.”
“What’d’ya say we open ’em at the same time? Do it together?”
“I say that sounds like the right way to do just about everything.”
That makes him smile. “On the count of three?”
I nod. “One.”
“Two,” he adds as my heart starts pounding.
“Three,” we say together, tearing into our respective envelopes.
After we each remove a single page, Luc takes my hand in his. Together, we read Cassius Clay Armstrong’s final words to us…
Chapter Ninety-two
______________________________________
Dear Maggie,
You know me. I’m bad at drawn-out farewells. Getting the hell out of Dodge, that’s what I’m good at.
Which is why I didn’t tell you about the tumor. I couldn’t stand the thought of a long goodbye, of tears and reminiscences and hours spent repainting the past, repainting ME, in softer, fuzzier colors so that you could look back on everything and only see the airiness and sweetness of it all.
The flaws I had in life are the flaws I have in death. I’m equal parts good and bad, and I don’t want you to forget that. I don’t want you to forget ME. But instead, remember me exactly as I am.
That said, I couldn’t leave you again without saying all the things that are in my head and in my heart. But I want to warn you right now, I’m not much of a letter writer. I don’t have Luc’s gift for putting pen to paper—or yours, for that matter. So I hope you’ll forgive me if I ramble a bit.
I’m sitting down to write this twelve years, four months, and six days after the moment I first saw you. And I need to tell you how grateful I’ve been to you for letting me love you and for loving me in return. For giving me the opportunity to witness myself and everything around me through your eyes. You’ve always been able to see the beauty and the mystery in the world, so it’s been an amazing view.
