Koen’s bare arm brushes against mine as he looks at the photo. “Yeah.”
“She was beautiful,” I say, truly meaning it as I glance up at him beside me.
A small smile pulls at his lips, but his eyes are sad. “She was so much more. Cocky, sassy, funny. The best big sister. She always knew how to keep us in check.”
I huff a quiet laugh as I look back at the picture, imagining it. “She sounds amazing.”
“She was,” he agrees. We both look at the picture together for a few moments before he asks, “How wasyourRosie?”
“She was… the opposite. Introverted, nice, responsible, and so damn kind.” My gaze rakes over him as I think of the moments we’ve shared so far, the way he’s made me feel. “She was a lot like you, honestly.”
“Funny.” He nudges his leg against mine. “I was just thinking about how my Rosie was a lot like you.”
I grip the photo tighter as the comment—the compliment—lands deep inside me, almost too far for me to grasp. “Sounds like we would have been good friends.” Then, I murmur quietly to myself, “I still need to bring her flowers.”
I set the frame back down carefully, doing my best to situate it exactly as I found it, and my fingers linger on the edge as if reluctant to let go.
Koen steps into my space and grasps my fingers with one hand as he lightly touches my chin with the other, tilting my face toward him. “You do?”
The grip feels more like a comfort than a command, and I answer his question honestly, “I sat with her for years and neverthought about it. I should’ve brought her roses.” My gaze flicks between his deep brown eyes. “She deserves roses, Koen.”
He swallows thickly, then releases my chin and smiles. “You brought her one of my favorite wines, even if she was underage.”
I wince at the reminder of how we met. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” he says with a genuine laugh, his long hair swinging forward with the motion. “I’m glad you were spending time with her. Honestly, I wasn’t there enough. I should’ve been.”
We lock eyes for a long, charged moment before he asks, “Do you want to?—”
The buzzing of my phone cuts through the moment, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or not. “Hold that thought.” I sigh, my stomach doing a flip when I pull it out and see who’s calling.
Nicholas.
What the hell is this about?
“It’s Nico,” I say with a frown, glancing up at Koen.
“Take it,” he instructs as he steps away with an unreadable expression.
My thumb hovers for a second before I swipe to answer. “Hey, Nico. I’m glad you’re calling. I’m with Koen and?—”
“Good,” he answers sharply.Okay. “I wanted to call him next. Put me on speaker, please.”
My brows furrow as I glance at Koen, who’s watching me curiously. I shrug and press the speaker button, holding the phone between us. “You’re on.”
“You okay?” Koen asks, and there’s genuine concern in his tone. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed that Koen absolutely does give a fuck about his former best friend, contrary to what everyone else thinks.
Nicholas exhales heavily on the other end. “Let’s just say I had a conversation with Veronica yesterday, and… I think you’re right.”
Koen frowns. “About?”
Nicholas goes quiet for three long seconds. “About Oscar’s death not being a heart attack.”
Koen goes completely still. “What did she say?”
“Nothing outright. But I know her. And… yeah. It makes sense. She did it.”
“And what exactly are you telling me now?” Koen’s jaw tightens, his knuckles whitening as his fists clench. “Why are you calling?”
