“You should always take a young man’s photo when he takes a girl out for a date. Makes it easier for police to go looking for him later when the girl doesn’t come home.”

The twins exchanged a look like Sal was an overprotective conspiracy theorist, but Lina nodded in agreement. “I remember a time, before the council created rules to protect the balance of mortal and immortal life, a lot of young girls did not come home.”

I shivered, realizing I was once one of those girls. I would never know where I originally came from, but after more than a century, I had still found my way home.

“Poe, you’re here too,” Dex said. He reached across me to hand the next photo to Poe. “With . . .”

“Reg,” Poe finished. He ran a hand over the photo and then pulled off his glasses to swipe at his eyes.

“You can keep it if you want,” I said. But he shook his head and passed it back. “You miss him even more.”

The next picture was of Sydney and Sophia, then one of Sal, and finally a photo of Reg and me together. We were inside the cottage kitchen, heads bent low over bowls of Sal’s chili, and we were laughing about something. Whatever it was, it had been funny enough that we hadn’t even noticed Sal snapping our picture.

I placed the photos, one by one, back in the box, the photo of me and Reg on top.

“Why pictures?” I asked Sal.

He leaned forward, rubbing his rough hands together. “I knew, if you got your immortality back, that you would be made to forget. So, I intended to give you this box full of photos before you left, as a memento of your time here.”

Lina rested a hand on Sal’s arm. “How thoughtful.”

“Didn’t have the chance to give it to Reg . . .” Sal’s voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat to go on. “So, I suppose you can do what you want with it now. Use the box for jewelry and put the photos in a scrapbook or something. Maybe put the picture of Dexter under your pillow or whatever the girls are doing these days.”

Dex slowly lifted his arm from my shoulder.

“Awkward,” he muttered.

“Reg really doesn’t remember us?” Poe asked. “Wherever he is, he just . . . like we don’t even exist?”

“He will remember only his sister,” Lina said. “But not his time with her here.”

“He’ll know I chose this,” I said, fighting a lump in my throat. “But he won’t know why . . . because he won’t know all of you. I’m sure it’s why he hasn’t contacted me. Wherever he is, he must hate me now.”

Lina leaned across the table to touch my knee, but she didn’t bother disagreeing. She knew I was right.