Looping my arms over the front of his, I rest my head back, still staring at the photo. He asks, “Can I ask you something, or would you rather drop it?”

“You can ask.”

Holding me even closer, he whispers, “Why do you keep the photo on display?”

“It’s a reminder that she once existed in my life.”

17

Harbor

Lark has been quiet since we got to her place.

Amanda even pulled me aside to ask what was going on. All I could say was Liz is on her mind. That’s all Amanda needed to hear. She made a cup of tea, set it in front of Lark, and then turned on When Harry Met Sally.

The three of us watched half the movie before Amanda told us good night and went to bed, leaving Lark and me to deal with the silence. Leaning back on the couch, I look over at her, and ask, “You know how sometimes we say we’ll talk about things another time? Are we waiting for a better time, or will we never talk about them?”

Lark pulls the elastic from her hair and runs her fingers through the wild curly strands. “I took it as we were waiting for the right time to bring it up and discuss it.”

“Funny thing about time is that it never changes. It’s consistently the same. We’re the ones who change.”

She looks at me, the happiness she usually can’t hide from me void in her expression tonight. Her eyes, though, those greens aren’t taking time off. She’s listening, seemingly taking in what I was saying. She says, “I’m not afraid to open up to you, Harbor. It’s just not a great story. There’s no happy ending.”

“I don’t need happy endings, and I don’t need your life to be entertainment for me. I want to get to know you, but I can see how painful this is for you, so there’s no pressure from me to talk it through.”

Curling her legs under her, she gets more comfortable on the other side of the couch. “I don’t know every detail of what happened to her, and I’m certain some things my dad will take to the grave with him. But what I do know is that she grew up in The Pointe and graduated from Beacon Pointe High School. Somewhere in that period, she met my dad, and along came me.” She frames her face and puts on a fake smile. She doesn’t have to put on pretenses for me, but maybe it helps in some way.

I’ve done it plenty of times when it came to Lucas, and plastering on a fake smile has helped me out of plenty of situations.

I’m surprised by how few details she knows, or is she not ready to share? I’ll wait for when it feels right for her. Reaching over, I rub the top of her thigh. “Come here.”

She unfurls herself from the cushion and slips into my arms, her back to my chest. Her body is calm against mine, but I know her mind is spinning. She says, “I don’t know anything about their relationship, but something wasn’t working. That aside, how does someone leave a two-year-old?”