When we get to the benches, he wipes the condensation off so our butts won’t be cold, which is an epic boyfriend-material move.

The cold is more pronounced near the ocean. There’s something about the scent of brine and salt that brings me back to San Francisco.

To Mom.

Dom must pick up on it, because his next question stuns me.

“So. How did she die?” He pops a grape into his mouth as he sits across from me.

I don’t want to talk about it. To be fair, this has nothing to do with him. I never share details about what happened. Even Nora doesn’t know the details. The only person who might know, other than Dad and Renn, is Pippa. But that’s because of what she saw in the local news.

“Is it okay if I don’t want to talk about it?” I smile weakly and take a sip of my wine. It’s red and subtle.

He gives me a thumbs-up. “Of course. Only share what you are comfortable sharing.”

So I tell him how Mom had a gallery. How the theme was gothic, and how much I loved it. I tell him she was a free spirit, a great dancer. How she didn’t know how to cook but still made the best pancakes ever. How my life changed after she died. I dropped out of college before starting the year, before I even set foot on campus at Berkeley, and moved to Boston to get away.

“It’s not too late to go back,” Dom says. Maybe he is right. Maybe he is wrong. I don’t have the guts to go back there and face the damage I did.

I pop a piece of cheddar into my mouth. “What about you? Any screwed-up family situations you want to brag about?”

“Afraid not. The majority of drama in my family surrounded my illness. My mom is a retired elementary school teacher, and my dad owned a construction company, which he later sold for a nice profit since neither I nor my brother wanted to take over. They live in the burbs. My brother and I visit them often.”

“And he lives nearby?” I ask, remembering they were supposed to watch a game together a couple of weeks ago.

Dom nods. “In the same building, actually. On the second floor. We leased our places at the same time. Seph is a longshoreman. He works at the docks, loading and unloading ships. It’s crazy hours, but the pay is great and he is built like a Transformer, so manual labor doesn’t faze him. What about Renn?”

I like that he remembered my brother’s name. “Renn just turned twenty. He goes to college, but his real passion is surfing and taking big, juicy bites of this thing called life. Traveling, partying, stuff like that. I bet he’s still what teenage girls’ dreams are made of.”

At least from what I can remember. Renn and I haven’t spoken about anything personal in six years. It’s all “Happy birthday” and “Merry Christmas” these days, usually delivered by laconic text messages.