Chapter 9
“When I met you at that same restaurant six months ago,” Gabriel went on, “I thought it was coincidence. I don’t actually believe in those anymore.”
“You never told me this.”
“I was waiting for the right moment.” A faint, unsteady smile. “I didn’t expect it to arrive wrapped in a humiliation I couldn’t undo fast enough.”
Eleanor looked at the photograph again — her mother’s face, younger than she’d ever known her, lit up with the kind of warmth she’d spent years missing. The restaurant that had become the site of her worst night had somehow always been the place her whole life quietly circled back to.
“She would have liked you,” Eleanor said finally. “She never trusted men who talked too much.”
“Then I suppose I got lucky.”
May you like
“You got lucky twice.” Eleanor set the photograph down, something settling in her chest that hadn’t been there an hour ago — not comfort exactly, but a kind of ground to stand on. “Once with her. Once with me.”
“I’m aware.”
