Each notification was a wound I wasn't ready to touch. I knew if I opened them, I'd see his words, and I'd want to believe them. I'd want to go back, to pretend I'd never stood in that hallway, to let him convince me that what we had was real.
Joanna didn't push. She kept the coffee coming and the silence comfortable, moving around me like I was something fragile that might shatter if handled too roughly. She prepared meals for me, washed bottles without being asked, and held Gabrielle when my arms got tired.
She was giving me space. I knew that. And I appreciated it.
But space wasn't helping. Space just gave me more room to fall apart even harder.
On the third night, Joanna cornered me.
Gabrielle had finally gone down after a fussy evening, and I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a cup of tea that had already been cold for an hour.
Joanna sat across from me, her hands wrapped around her own mug, her eyes steady on my face.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she said, "or do I have to guess?"
I'd known this was coming. Joanna wasn't the type to let things fester. She'd given me three days, which was probably a record for her patience.
"I don't know where to start."
"Start anywhere. I'll keep up."
So I told her all of it. The promise Cal had made to Mateo, the night he died. The way Cal had moved into my building on purpose when I moved back to town, to watch over me, to keep his word. The months of pretending we were strangers, the way things had shifted after Evan's threats, the almost-kiss in my kitchen and the way we started to be part of each other's lives, until that.
And then the conversation I'd overheard. Cal's voice, tight with guilt, admitting that everything between us had started because of a promise to a dead man.
Joanna listened without interrupting. When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"That's a lot to carry." The words poured out of her, filled with empathy.
"I don't know what to do with it." I wrapped my hands around my cold tea again, needing something to hold onto. "I thought what we had was real. I thought he chose me. But he didn't. Mateo chose for him."
"Did he, though?"
I looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Mateo asked Cal to take care of you. That's the promise." Joanna tilted her head, considering. "But falling in love with you? Building a life with you? That wasn't part of the deal. That was Cal's choice."
"You don't know that."
"I know what I've seen." Her voice was gentle but firm. "I've watched that man look at you, Lucy. I've seen the way he acted with Gabrielle, the way he lights up when you walk into a room. That's not obligation. That's not duty. That's a man who's head over heels and terrified of it."
I shook my head. "He lied to me. For months."
"He kept a secret. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
Joanna sighed. "Honey, I'm not saying what he did was right. He should have told you. But think about it from his side. He made a promise to his best friend while the man was dying in his arms. He's been carrying that weight for three years. And somewhere along the way, he fell in love with the woman he was supposed to protect. That's complicated. That's messy. And maybe he didn't know how to tell you without losing you."
"So he just... didn't tell me? And that's supposed to be okay?"
"No. It's supposed to be human, and humans make mistakes." Joanna reached across the table and took my hand. "Loving someone new doesn't erase who you loved before. It just means your heart's big enough for both. And from where I'msitting, it looks like Cal's heart has plenty of room for you."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I gave her space to keep talking.
"Did it start as a promise? Maybe," Joanna continued. "But that's not what it is now. And I think you know that. I think that's what scares you."
I pulled my hand back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
