Chapter 7: Same Words

"I knocked," Greta said, from the study doorway, with great dignity.

"You did not," said Anders from the carpet.

"I thought about it very hard."

She patted the garment bag, turned on her cane, and went out whistling.

Anders sat up and pushed both hands through his hair.

He had the look of a man who had expected the morning to feel worse.

"We need to talk about the gown," I said.

"We need to talk about what happened last night."

"We will. First I'm going to show you something, and you're going to be rude about it."

I got my old iPad out of the duffel bag in my room and carried it down to the breakfast table.

It was the cracked one with the dented corner that I'd used through college and had mostly left sitting in my father's front hall.

Anders watched me type in the passcode.

"Who knows that?" he asked.

"My birthday. Everybody in the house knew it."

"Including Blair."

"Including Blair. She used to borrow it to watch her shows. She never gave it back, I just stopped asking."

I opened the Notes app and scrolled to the bottom, past the grocery lists and the torque specs.

I turned the screen toward him.

TO THE MAN I'D MARRY BY MISTAKE.

It was dated March, four years ago.

"I wrote it at twenty-two," I said. "After a bad date. As a joke. I never sent it to anyone."

He read it in silence.

I watched his eyes go down the page.

I like a man who goes quiet before he's kind, it said.

I don't need you to be soft. I need you to be there when the lights go out.

He stopped reading.

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