I followed him up the sidewalk, in and around people strolling and coming in and out of shops and cafés. And then we were upon them, Angie and Trevor standing outside a coffee shop, his hand on her elbow, trying to motion her inside, Angie pulling away, resisting.

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Trevor,” she said. “That’s it.”

“No, you listen!” Trevor said. “I’ve got things to say to—”

He glanced to his left, saw me and Paul standing there. “Daddy,” Angie said, and moved to join us, and Trevor yanked on her arm, dragging her back.

“Let her go, Trevor,” I said.

“Let go of my sister!” Paul shouted. I’d never heard him speak like that in his entire life.

“Shut up!” Trevor said. “Everybody just shut up!”

People who had been passing on the sidewalk quickly sensed there was an “incident” going on, and gave us a wide berth. Some had stopped to watch, but were hanging back.

With his free hand, he reached down into the pocket of his black coat and pulled out the knife that had gone missing from the kitchen. It was flecked with cake crumbs and frosting.

“Keep the fuck away!” he shouted, waving the knife in the air. Angie’s eyes were wide with fear.

Paul went to move forward, and I put my arm out, holding him back.

“Trevor,” I said, trying to be very calm, “put that knife away, and we’ll talk about things.”

He was moving his head slowly back and forth, looking at Angie, then at us and back to Angie. He spoke to her, the knife suspended in the air, none of us able to take a breath.

“I loved you,” he said. “I loved you so much.”

“Sure,” Angie whispered, a tear trailing down one cheek. “You’re a great guy, Trevor.”

“I don’t want to be some guy! Don’t you understand what we are to each other? Don’t you realize, every day now, every day that you live, you can thank me? I’d be entitled to take your life, because every day you get since that night is a gift from me.”

“Trevor,” I said.

He paid no attention to me. “I couldn’t believe it, you with that other guy. Cameron. Did he save your life? Has he been watching out for you, for weeks, keeping track of you, making sure you’re okay? Has he done for you what I’ve done? Do you understand anything about gratitude, or about how much you owe me?”

“Trevor,” I said again, softly. “Put down the knife.”

He shook his head angrily.