Her chin lifts as she angles my way. “You’re welcome.”

I back out of the overlook parking spot. “I’ll get you back to the city.” Now she eyes me, her lips twisted to one side as she bites the inside of her cheek. I continue, “I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow.”

“I do, actually.”

I pull back onto the road, knowing I have one hour, not for me to change her mind, but for her to do it. Convincing someone to love you is only a temporary trick. The real magic is when they believe it themselves. Then it’s genuine.

Keeping the music low in the background, I ask, “Why did you apply for your residency in New York?”

Planting her elbow on the door, she rests her head in her hand and tightens her expression as if she might be onto me. But then she says, “It’s easier to disappear here and live life on your own terms.”

“Why do you want to disappear?”

“I don’t need a lot to make me happy. A great bagel, solid friendships, and family. I’m within a few hours, if not closer, to all those things.” She smiles, easing back against the leather seat. “I’m also a people watcher. I like the city, the vibe, the busyness of it all. Everyone has somewhere to be. It’s nice to sit in the chaos without getting sucked into it.”

Her smile is enough of a reward to soothe the angst twisting inside. I go on to ask, “Do you believe that people can change?”

“Oh, um . . .” She glances at me, appearing surprised at the question by how she readjusts, and her brows rise. “I believe people will change when it feels right to do so. For some, it might take a lifetime to realize they need to. Others change in the moment.”

“What about forgiveness?” I ask, silently pleading that she can give me a reason to hold on to hope.

“Am I being interrogated?”

“No. I just want to hear your thoughts.”

“What about forgiveness?” she repeats the question as she mulls her answer. There’s no sigh of defensiveness, but I’m still glad she can speak her mind. “Forgiveness takes time.”

As much as I hate to admit it, we still have a few hurdles to jump, so I understand what she means. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive my aunt for the guilt she put on me and the lies she made me tell about my cousin.”

“I understand. I’d struggle with that as well.”

I still don’t understand my aunt’s motives. To protect a reputation he’d already jaded? To destroy me in her grief? I’ll probably never have the answers. I’m not upset that she’s been removed from mine and my family’s lives.

As for Lark, I want to know everything she believes. I ask, “What about love?”

“What about love?”

“Do you think it’s meant for everyone, even the damned and damaged?”