Page 123 of Becoming Us

“Now nod if you understand me.”

I nodded again.

He dipped down and kissed me. “Good. That’s enough emotional growth for one night,” he said, and kissed me again, softer this time. “Let’s sleep.”

I chuckled, trying to settle the storm in my chest. “Let’s sleep.”

I followed him as he stood, and together we moved through the quiet, familiar motions of getting ready for bed—shoulder-to-shoulder, brushing teeth, turning down lights. The veil of domesticity draped over us again, light and warm.

This had always been what I wanted. A home. A life with him.

Maybe, one day, I’d stop feeling like I’d somehow tricked him into believing he wanted all of this with me. Like he was settling for less. But him being here, choosing to come with me—that felt like a very big step in the right direction.

I drifted off in his arms, our fingers tangled between us, my thumb brushing slow circles over the back of his hand. As I did, I let myself believe this was where we were supposed to be.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

BEFORE

My fingers felt numb as I fastened the cufflinks to my sleeves. It was colder today—the temperature had dropped, which was typical for mid-October. Not that anything about today felt typical. The sky was a bright, cloudless blue. Not a single sign of what was coming.

“Do you need help with that?” Ilana asked.

I turned just as she finished putting on one of her earrings.

Looking down, I realized I had no idea how long I’d been fumbling with the cufflink. I nodded.

Her soft footsteps padded across the carpet as she came closer. She wore a black dress. She was almost always in black anyway, but this one didn’t suit her. It was too stiff. Too formal.

I tugged on the sleeve of my shirt as she clicked the cufflink into place.

“Do you have your speech?”

“Yeah.” My mind wandered to the piece of paper currently folded and tucked in my pants pocket. I wasn’t even sure whatthe hell I had written on it. I couldn’t get my head to focus. Everything seemed numb. Out of focus. The sound felt off. There was too much quiet, and then everything echoed through the space. The empty space.

She adjusted my tie, lips pressed into a grim line. She hadn’t bothered with makeup today, and just like that, a lump formed in my throat.

“Noh, do you think we can talk later? After?”

“What about?”

“Mom,” she said quietly.

I shrugged, swallowing hard. “Sure. After.” I wasn’t sure I’d be able to have any kind of conversation after.

My eyes drifted down and caught on her necklace. It was a little golden chain holding a dainty cross.

“Is he wearing his?”

She glanced up, confused. “What?”

“Dad. Is he wearing his necklace?” The words felt wrong in my mouth. I couldn’t explain why. I shrugged off the thought, just like I ignored the flicker of pain in her expression.

“It’s in the safe. Mom asked you to put it there, remember?” Her voice was soft. Gentle.

Vaguely, I recalled her handing me boxes. Dad had asked me to change the passcode the last time I was home. Maybe I was the only one who even knew it now. It wasn’t a big safe—just papers, mostly. And now, I guessed, the medallion.