“Lilac,” I repeat. Huh.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is it your favorite color?”
My face scrunches up. Maybe I should ask her why she’s asking so many questions, but it probably wouldn’tbe kind, and I don’t want to upset her.
“Because,” I begin, “it’s the color of the flowers my mummy grows in the garden, and they make her happy.”
I don’t say the lilac flowers are what makes Mummy happysince my daddy died. I always see her smile when she smells them. And when she’s smiling, it means she’s not crying.
Sophie’s eyes narrow at me, and she taps her chin like my granny does when she thinks. “Hmm. Do you want to be my friend?”
Mrs. Benson’s telling everyone to settle down and face forward. But Sophie’s waiting for an answer, her face wide like one of the dogs when they’re waiting for a biscuit.
So before I do as I’m asked, I nod to Sophie and say, “Okay.”
CHAPTER 3
Hendricks
Miles sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in his hand. It’s the first indication that today won’t go as planned.
Which is to say as quickly as possible and without drama.
Miles is rarely awake before breakfast. There’s only one reason he’s here, and it’s me. He thinks I’m falling apart.
I stand in the doorway, arms crossed over my chest, while I wait. He looks up at me and shrugs, daring me to prove him wrong.
For fuck’s sake. I’m fine.Fine.
So what if the woman I’ve been in love with before I ever realized has returned after a six-year absence?
So what if I have no idea why she’s back or for how long? Or the reason she left in the first place, beyond wild guesses pulled from the depths of my soul in the middle of the night.
So what if she’s returned looking nothing like the Story I remember?
That my head’s in a spin because of it. Or the weeksI’ve spent poring over the thousands of photos I still have of her—ofus—just to check.Because what if she’s exactly the same, and I forgot?
But I amfine, whatever Miles believes to the contrary.
He’s only here for moral support because he thinks I’m taking Max for the first day of term. Which is great and all, but he’s wasted his time. He got out of bed for nothing.
“Birgitta’s taking Max,” I tell Miles after a minute of unspoken dialogue. “But I appreciate it.”
“Hen—”
I walk over to the coffee laid out for breakfast and pour myself a cup. I’ve been up for three hours already. This is my fourth, but I’m going to need it. While the household was still asleep, I stood at the window, watching the darkness and debating what to do.
Then I went about the day as normal, waking my son and making his breakfast.
“I have an early surgery.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
