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“It’s enough to know I heal at a normal rate. In that way, I’m as cautious as you are.” He cast me a knowing look over his shoulder. “Perhaps more so. But I haven’t aged a day since… 1897. Or thereabouts.”

I whistled under my breath. He paused in his work, the duster dancing between his fingers.

“You’re surprised?” he asked mildly.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I know Nicholas and Isabel have still got years on you, but I wasn’t expecting…” The implications of his age caught up with me.

He grinned mischievously, flashing his straight white teeth. “Feeling young and naïve, Erin?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, laughing.

After that, I’d opened the floor for questions. Adam asked how I’d met Tom and Jonathan, and I explained about our dream for the coffee shop; how we’d almost gone bankrupt when we were starting out, but Jon had held us all together.

“Do you miss him?” Adam asked as we ate lunch in the back room.

“Jonathan?” A hard knot formed in my throat. I forced myself to swallow. “Yes,” I nodded, mostly to myself. “Yes. I miss him.”

I picked at the crust of my sandwich, buying time. “At first, he was constantly on my mind. But there’s been so much going on… I suppose I got distracted. He’s just… part of me, now.” A laugh escaped. “I mean, we used to argue constantly – and it’s strange, but it’s one of the things I miss the most. The debates. He’d always keep pushing until I knew exactly why I believed what I believed.”

My voice softened. “He made me brave enough to be myself, you know? To do what needed doing. But he never let me take the easy way out.” I set down my barely touched food. “I’m grateful I knew him. I was lucky to have him in my life.”

It was a relief to talk about him so freely, though it brought back the familiar ache in my chest. The café felt emptier now, in the spaces where he should’ve been. No more whistling as he burst through the door, vibrating with enthusiasm over some new idea. No more disagreements about what counted as art. No more barging in on my painting with urgent songs Ihadto hear right this second.

He was just… gone. And his last gift to me had been the mystery of his death – it had kept me too busy to drown in grief. He’d probably have appreciated the irony, anyway.

Adam contemplated that. I took a huge bite of my sandwich so I could look away.

“I met him once,” he said softly. “Jonathan.”

“What?” I swallowed hastily.

“You were there, too, if I recall, though we never spoke.” He gathered our plates and carried them over to the small sink. “I hadn’t known your friend and Nick’s Jonathan were one and the same… Nick never met him.”

“When was this?” I sifted through my memories fruitlessly, but if I’d met someone like Adam, I knew I’d remember.

“Oh, years ago,” he waved a dismissive hand. “You were still studying. I was checking up on him – the first and the last time, unfortunately.” A small frown creased his forehead. “I only remembered before – Nick’s relatives tend to blur together when you’ve met so many of them. And damn it if they don’t all look alike.”

“Nicholas was there?” I went still, and something clenchedin my chest. I couldn’t help but think I’d have sensed him.Don’t be such an idiot.

“No, no.” Adam’s lips quirked as he returned to his seat. “He usually keeps track of them himself, but on this particular occasion, he had asked me for a favour. I only spoke to Jonathan briefly, of course. He had no idea who I was. I believe we discussed local breweries or some such. Something terribly mundane.”

I smiled to myself. Jon had convinced himself for a while that the best way to bring art, music and literature together in one place would be to run a bar – Tom and I talked him out of the idea, insisting drunk people didn’t want to read.

“He did look rather like Nick, though,” Adam continued. “Not quite as handsome, but there was more than the usual resemblance. In the expressiveness, mainly. I suppose you’ve noticed?”

I avoided his eye and went over to the sink. “Yeah.”

“Does that make it difficult for you?” he asked sombrely.

I rinsed the plates under the tap. “Does it makewhatdifficult, exactly?”

“Loving him.” Adam’s tone was perfectly innocent, but he was more interested in my answer than he was letting on.Did Nicholas put him up to this?

I waited before replying, my hands gripping the edge of the porcelain for support. I gazed blankly at the sky-blue walls.

“Adam… I don’t know how I feel about Nicholas. I’ve only met him a handful of times.”

And I feel like I’ve known him forever. Urgh. It was allso… irrational.