Page 84 of Trust Me

She grinned. “Trust me.”

Epilogue

Nora

Twenty-FiveYearsLater

The photo over the fireplace mantel was my favorite. The deep blue mountains were framed by streaks of red and gold cutting across the evening sky. The drama of the scene could not be denied, but there was also peace. This came, perhaps, from the two tired hikers relaxing at the summit, their backs to the camera, facing the sunset. Not touching, but their positions are identical, the man and the woman bracing back on their arms, with his crossed over hers to form an X between them.

Us. It was my favorite thing about the photo, that we weren’t touching and yet were somehow totally connected.

The photo was from the first time we made it up Hart’s Mountain together. I had insisted on bringing a camera and tripod, on the argument that I would climb Hart’s Mountain again when hell froze over.

I had been wrong about that, because the next time we had reached the peak was a year later. Since then, we had made it an annual thing—including last week. We took the mountains slower these days, but we still took them, with gratitude for the good health that we both still enjoyed.

The photo was my favorite, not just because it was gorgeous, but because I always remembered that it was the day we got news that we had been approved to foster a child. One month later, a ten-year-old boy came to live with us. The first of many kids we fostered over the years. Biological kids never appeared, and neither did adoption. But I didn’t regret that. Not at all.

I sipped my coffee, head tilted to the side, studying the photo. It was my favorite, but I also enjoyed the cards and photos from our former foster kids that lined the mantle. And now, we had a few more to add, because I had received a card just this morning from Ronan, our first foster.

I headed to the small office off the living room, where I knew Michael was working, carrying two mugs of steaming coffee, the card tucked in my back pocket. The door was mostly closed, and I pushed it open with my hip and entered the room.

“We got a card—”

Michael slammed his laptop shut and stared blankly at me.

I narrowed my eyes. Once upon a time, that sort of behavior would have sent me spiraling into a dark, distrustful place. I never did that now, thanks to therapy on my part and a rather shocking lack of betrayal on his.

His expression changed to one of supreme innocence.

Oh, please. He was the absolute worst at hiding anything. Twenty-five years now, and it was always the same. He never failed to buy my Christmas present by October,monthsbefore necessary, only to pretend on Christmas morning that he had totally forgotten.

“We got a card from Ronan.” I set the mugs down carefully on the desk and fished out the card.

“Awesome.” But instead of reaching for the card, he reached for my hips, pulling me closer and lifting his face for a kiss.

I complied, happily.

“We can read it when you’re done here.” I picked up my coffee. “I’m going to give Suzie a call and when you’re done with…um…whatever you were working on, come grab me.” I turned to go, aware that he was grinning smugly while his eyes followed me out.

He actually believed he got away with it.

That man.

I trusted he found me something good for Christmas.