Page 114 of Dying to Meet You
If only. “Not a word. And when he died, we hadn’t spoken in several days, because he’d broken up with me.”
She blinks at me. “He broke itoff?”
“Yes. I was still feeling pretty confused about it. But that doesn’t seem very important now.”
“But he really liked you. Hetoldme.”
“Maybe he met someone new,” I say softly. “It happens.”
“I have to ask.” She fingers her mug. “Did you find him? Was it you the news was talking about?”
I only nod.
“Do you think he suffered?”
“No,” I say immediately. “It’s terrible what happened to him. But I don’t think he suffered. I think he was gone really quickly. Listen,” I fumble into my purse, pushing past the recording device for the little drawstring bag. “I had a couple things of his that he’d left at my house. I’d like to give them to you.”
She watches solemnly as I extract the cuff links and the watch.
I lay them on the table. “I’m sure you know he collected watches. And he had an old-school style that I admired.”
She lifts a cuff link and studies the monogram. “He dressed so nice,” she whispers. “Like a gentleman.”
“He did.”
She picks up the watch. “This is beautiful. It looks vintage.”
“Doesn’t it? I don’t know anything about watches, though.”
She gazes at the watch’s face before setting it down again. “You keep that. I’ll keep the cuff links.”
“What? No. He’d want you to have it.”
Her eyes are red when she raises them again. “I know myself. It will only be a temptation.”
“Sorry? I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t. And that’s a good thing.” She lifts her chin again, almost defiantly. “I have a little problem with heroin. It’s gotten worse since Tim passed.”
Oh God. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She gives her head a slow shake. “I don’t see how. Just keep yourself safe. That’s all we can do now.” She picks up the watch and hands it to me.
“I’ll keep this safe for you. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
She gives me a tired smile. “Maybe.”
I push my chair back. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Thank you for talking to me.”
She walks me to the door. “Rowan, wait. There is one thing. Do you have any pictures of him?”
I pause, one foot out the door. “I have two. They aren’t great, but I’m happy to send them along. Do you have email?”
“Course I do. I’m old but not dead.” She smiles faintly at her own joke.
“Sorry. Stupid question.” I dig into the exterior pocket of my bag. “Here’s my card. Email me, and I’ll reply with those two pictures.”
“Thank you, honey. I’ll do that.”
