Her head snapped back up. “No. I am not sorry you lost anything that night. I was a girl on a mission and you had it coming.” There was a glint in her eye, like she was testing me or something. I knew the look well.

But nothing about what she was saying was suspicious and I needed to stop analyzing the women I dated as I did with the people I worked with.

I cleared my throat and leaned in, whispering. “Your execution needed work.”

She huffed from her nose and reached for her water to hide her smile.

I pointed my fork at her. “In fact, now that I know what I know about you, the look on your face in that stall is even more priceless.”

“I take it there’s zero chance of you ever forgetting that?”

“None.”

“Great,” she muttered and took a bite of her toast.

“When did you start this list?”

Any smile left on her features faded and she hesitated. “I didn’t. My mother started it for me when she…found out she was sick.” She swallowed, the words pouring out of her like it didn’t mean anything. Like her mother’s illness was always the course and she wasn’t emotional over it. Which didn’t make sense. I knew Harper and her mother were close. But the way she spoke of it sounded as though her mother died of old age and it was expected and just a part of life.

Somehow, I took it that she didn’t want sympathy. So I didn’t offer any. “What else is on this list?” I cut into a sausage, my tone unaffected.

She pressed her lips together and reached into her pocketbook.

“You carry it with you?”

“Most people carry a photo of the person they lost. I carry something that she made for me. A photo wouldn’t do that. It would just depress me. This list—inspires me.”

It was hard not to analyze to death what Harper was telling me. So I dipped my focus down to the piece of paper between her fingers.

“May I?”

She scanned it before handing it to me tentatively.

Slowly, my eyes trailed down the list, with consideration to each one. Wondering what they sparked. How it affected her. How it defined her. Why it would be on the list.

I supposed I was expecting to see things more along the lines of scuba diving and seeing Cher in concert. Instead, they were ideas that gave me an understanding of how her mother viewed Harper. How she feared for her. How sheltered and afraid Anne Maxwell must have known Harper would become after her inevitable death.

“Don’t let anyone get away with hurting you.” I looked up, knowing that was the one that had to do with my brother. When she lifted her brows, I knew I was right. “I noticed it’s crossed out.”

“In pencil,” she warned.