‘It was easy. Facial recognition app, cross-checked his army records. But I want you to know – I did it to protect you. I wanted to know he was a good influence.’

‘And is he?’

‘From what I know about him, yes he is.’

‘Good. Because I think I might… love him.’

He patted my hand and his face brightened. ‘Good. And you happy?’

‘More than I thought I could be.’

‘I am glad. I wanted this for you.’

‘What if it doesn’t work out though? I haven’t seen him in almost a month and he’s supposed to be coming down here next week and maybe he won’t still feel the same about me.’ His TV was warbling on in the background – Blanche was being necked by some octogenarian lothario on the lanai.

‘Have faith,’ he wheezed, reaching for his pill bottle and twisting off the cap. He tossed back a few of the pills, forcing them down his throat with a swig of a smoothie. ‘It will work out because you will make sure it does.’

‘What about if Rhiannon, you know… comes back?’

‘She’s your dark side. Everyone has one. You cannot be whole without her. But I think maybe you have tamed her now. She will not come out unless you open the door to her cage.’

I squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you for everything.’

‘Thank you…’

‘Don’t you dare say “for being a friend”.’

He laughed and the laugh turned into a painful cringe that he blew out, clutching his stomach. ‘I could not be prouder of you than if you were my own Marisol.’

A shot of adrenaline went straight to my heart and bloomed in my body – from my heart and outwards. ‘Whoa. That means a lot.’

‘You must travel. Go places, do things. Be happy. You are like your flowers – you will only last so long in this world so you need to make the most of your life. I wish I had a second chance to be better.’

‘Why are you saying this? Is this like a deathbed thing?’

He squeezed my hand and looked at the little yarn kitten with button eyes I had bought him from the market. He put it on his chest and stroked it. ‘My gatita. You have been good to me.’ He noticed I was wearing the necklace I’d taken from Marisol’s jewellery box, lifting it away from my chest and studying it in the dying light. ‘This is a fire opal,’ he said. ‘It was mined in the hills near here. It’s beautiful, yes?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I saw it in her jewellery box and I was drawn to it.’

I followed his gaze out to the corridor where the gold leaf painting of Marisol shimmered in the dying light of day. ‘She was beautiful too.’ He’d never stop missing her.

That’s what children do to a person. They rip you wide open, forever.