Page 106 of Six Month Wife
I step closer, slow and steady. “You always wanted me to be more like you. Ruthless. Detached. Strategic. Roger always talked about your life as a house of cards. He's also the one who said all it takes is one gust of truth to bring it down.”
His eyes flash. “Roger was a fool.”
“No,” I say. “He was always smarter than you. He let you think you were the smartest.”
Now he flinches. Just enough.
“I don’t need your legacy. I don’t need your approval. But I’ll be damned if I let you drag the woman I love through hell because she doesn’t fit your mold. You retract the article. You clear her name. Or I let the entire Beltway know exactly what kind of man you are and the heads you've stepped on to get to where you are.”
Leeland's voice is ice. “You’d take me down to protect her?”
“I’d take the whole goddamn city down.”
29
Adair
The wind'salready picking up by the time I make it to the beach to meet my cousin.
The late afternoon light stretches long over the sand, coloring everything gold. I spot him near the dunes, facing the water.
I knew he’d be here. We didn’t even need to confirm.
“Hey,” I say softly as I approach.
Cam turns, the corners of his mouth twitching up in something that’s not quite a smile. “Hey, yourself. Man, you look great. The East Coast has been good for you.”
He’s holding the small cedar box close to his chest, one hand curled protectively over the lid like it might fly away if he loosens his hold.
We don’t hug yet. We stand there for a second and let the wind wrap around us. Let it carry the weight.
“Thanks for coming,” he says, eyes glassy but clear.
“Wouldn’t miss it, Cam. You know that.” My voice catches. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”
He nods once and looks back out to the water. “I didn’tthink it would hit this hard until I got here. Until I smelled the salt.”
I reach down and slip off my sandals. The sand’s warm and soft. I take a step closer, shoulder to shoulder now. “He loved it here.”
“Totally,” Cam says, quiet and certain. “He said Palm Beach gave him life and that it was the only place that didn’t make him feel like he had to shrink.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I know. He's the reason I'm here now, why I moved here in the first place.”
He doesn’t answer and opens the box. Inside, it’s nothing dramatic, fine, pale ash. The last trace of his twin, Milo.
I step back to give him space.
Cam kneels. Scoops a handful of ash and lets it spill through his fingers like a blessing. It dances in the breeze, curling and drifting, catching the light before disappearing over the waves.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something too low to catch. “He would’ve hated a cemetery.”
“He would’ve haunted you for even thinking about one,” I say, smiling through the sting in my eyes.
That gets the smallest laugh out of him. “You’re not wrong. Come on, get some of Milo on your fingers. You can't let me have all the glory.”
I reach in and let the fine, silky particles slip through my fingers. He empties the rest in a slow and steady pour, until the box is light and empty and quiet in his hands. He places the empty box in a bag on his shoulder, and we stand together in the silence after.
He grabs my hand and we watch the surf roll in and take Milo out to the place he loved most, the ocean.
