“Let’s not do this,” Natalie said. “Let’s not make this all about you. You could have asked Mom anytime in the past three decades. What do you suppose she would have said—that you’re the guy who banged her and gaslighted her about wanting to spend the rest of your life with her? She didn’t pine for you, Dean.” Guys wanted to imagine their exes pining for them.

She studied his face, still aging-movie-star handsome. Begging for absolution. Yearning to believe he had not done the damage they both knew he’d caused. Natalie was too exhausted to summon bitterness now. “Look, if you’re here for some kind of redemption, it’s not mine to give. Mom found her happiness. She loved the store, and judging by the turnout at her memorial, she was surrounded by friends.”

“She was a fantastic person, and I know she was a great mother to you.” He flexed and unflexed his hands. Looked around the shop at all the trinkets and tributes people had left.

Natalie sensed that he wanted to talk more. She didn’t. “It’s been a long day,” she said.

He took the hint and got up. “Could we … maybe get coffee sometime?”

“I’ve got a lot on my plate,” she said.

“I get it. Take care, Natalie,” he said.

“I will.”

She stood motionless as he let himself out, disappearing into the shadows. The man was walking, talking proof that relationships were nothing but uncertainty. The only thing certain about a relationship was that it would end. Could be that was the reason her mother never bothered getting into one in the first place.

Natalie’s earliest memory of Dean Fogarty was just after she had turned five. Her mother had said a man named Dean was coming to meet her. Dean was her father.

“Is he coming to live with us?” Natalie had asked.

“No. God, no. You don’t have to meet him, baby. Only if you want to.”

Natalie had shrugged, unsure of what she wanted, but curious. So she said okay. He had a smiling mouth with very white teeth, and serious eyes that didn’t smile at all. He brought her a birthday gift bag, even though her birthday had been the week before. She had accepted it with a bashful thank you. He and her mom exchanged tensely murmured words, and he’d thrust something into her hand. After he’d left, she looked at her mother and saw that she was wiping away tears. “Why are you crying?” she asked. It frightened her to see her mother cry.

“I had such a lovely father, growing up. I wish you had a father like Grandy.”

“I do have Grandy. I don’t want Dean to come back. He makes you sad.”

“No, baby, he doesn’t. I just want to make sure I’m enough for you.”