Chapter 24: Mine

I found him on the back stair.

It took me four minutes and one flight.

He was sitting on the third step with a paper cup of the ward's terrible coffee.

His coat was folded on his knees, and he was looking at a brick wall.

"You said room," I said.

"I did."

"You didn't say how much."

"I was going to go as far as the end of the alley." He looked at the cup. "I got to the stair and found I couldn't make my legs do the next part."

"That's the most honest thing you've ever said."

"I'm trying to be less sorry."

"How's it going?"

"Badly."

I sat down on the step next to him.

The brick was cold through my nightgown, and I had my coat over it, and my socks had holes.

He took in all of it and didn't smile.

"A hundred," I said.

His head turned.

"I'm not giving it to anyone," I said. "It's all there, every bit, and it's sitting in me with nowhere to go."

"Gemma..."

"Nobody gets to say where it goes," I said. "Not Fabrizio, or Donata, or the Board. Not you either."

"No."

"I wanted to say that out loud before I did anything."

He set the coffee down on the step.

"Then say the rest."

I looked at his hand, resting on his knee.

It was a big hand with a burn on the thumb.

For five years a man had taken mine in his, and held it, and told me I wouldn't notice.

I reached over and took his.

I did it slowly, so he could see.

I turned it palm up and laid my own across it, and wove our fingers together.

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