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“‘If you really are Anton, tell me about your cousin Esther’?”

“Sure, something like that. See how he reacts. What he says.” She squeezes my arm again. “I don’t think Anton did this. I never met him, but I know you and now I know Jin, and you both think Antonwas a great guy. That tells me he was. But you need to ask the question and get it answered and out of your head. Right?”

I hesitate. Then I nod.

I don’t want this séance. I don’t want to ask Anton anything about Roddy Silva. I want these last few days to have been a bad dream, and I’ll wake from it and realize all this séance nonsense has been exactly that: nonsense. I’m grieving and lost and maybe a little bit—okay, a lot—broken.

I’ve told myself I’m looking for answers, but that’s bullshit. The only question I want answered is “Why?” and that’s not even a question as much as a primal scream to the universe.

Why did you take him?

I found someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and we had so many plans, and when “till death do us part” came, it was supposed to be me.

It was supposed to be me gone and him left behind. What the fuck do I do now? Sit and wait to die?

I’m angry at the universe, and I decided contacting Anton would somehow fix it, and the universe laughed in my face and made it worse.

I want to wake up now. Take this nightmare as a cautionary tale, and move on with my life.

“Move on with my life” is the real answer to my question. What do I do now? Keep going. Hold fast to those amazing memories of Anton and move forward. In questioning those memories, though, I’ve tarnished them.

The universe didn’t steal Anton from me. It gave me a gift—a few years of incredible happiness with an incredible man. Now I’m questioning that.

What’s the saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth? I’vepried those jaws open, and I’m peering into a future hell where the man I loved was actually a killer.

The four of us meet in the breakfast nook. That’s where Cirillo has set up tonight’s séance. I’m the last one to join, dragging my sorry ass in, clutching the box of Anton’s cremains. I put it in its place of honor and then take my seat.

“Nicola?” Cirillo says.

I glance his way.

“Are you all right? I sense you don’t want to be here tonight.”

“I’m just tired,” I mumble.

Shania shoots me an anxious look. Now that she knows I have concerns, I can’t make an excuse to skip this.

“I’m fine,” I say, straightening.

Jin frowns over at me. “We don’t need to do this, Nic.”

Cirillo clears his throat. “Jin is correct. However, if we don’t, we run the risk of losing Anton.”

Asshole.

Ooh, I reallyamin a mood, aren’t I? Still, Cirillo is not my ally here. He has an agenda, and I’m angry about that because we picked him specifically for not having an agenda. He’s a scientist, and he promised anonymity and impartiality.

Knowing he’s hoping to use my story for grant money feels like trusting a doctor to give an unbiased opinion and then discovering he’s getting kickbacks for the medication he put you on. I cannot rely on Cirillo having my best interests in mind.

Jin lowers his voice, as if only I can hear him. “I’m happy to cancel if you want, Nic, but maybe…” He shrugs, looking sheepish. “I think Dr. Cirillo is right. Antonishere.”

“I wasn’t going to cancel,” I say. “I’m just not sure I’m fully committed to it tonight.”

“Well, you need to be,” Cirillo says, with a laser stare that tells me I’d better not fuck up his séance.

My séance, asshole.

“I’ll do my best,” I say, saccharine sweet, “but if we don’t make contact, then I understand it’s entirely my fault, and I accept responsibility for my own disappointment.”