There are also pictures of Nina and Jim.
A gallery representative of a life well-lived.
“It’s okay to move on,” Bob says when the silence stretches out. “To love again. Even to forgive Tommy for not telling you a secret that undoubtedly hurt him twice.”
“Twice?” I ask, frowning.
“Once when he found out his father killed a bunch of innocent people, and again when he found out they were people his friend loved.”
Dammit.
Why does everything he says make sense? And why do I feel like an absolute moron now?
“You should call her,” Bob says after a moment. I told him how I ghosted everyone. “Or better yet, fly out to wherever she is and walk in with flowers. Maybe a ring.”
A ring?
Yeah, now that I’m unemployed that’s not in the budget.
Unless…
“And call your band,” he says, practically reading my mind as he gets to his feet. “On that note, this old man is going to bed. Feel free to stay up or crash in the guest room—there’ll be coffee in the morning.” He walks toward the stairs.
“Hey, Bob?” I call after him.
He pauses, looking over his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, son.”
Son.
When was the last time anyone called me son?
“And Ross?” This time he stops and calls to me.
“Yeah?”
“Bring Wynter around. We’d like to meet her.”
Oh, man, my eyes are feeling a little scratchy and weird.
“If I can get her to forgive me,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “I will.”
Then I’m alone with my thoughts.
Fuck.
I’m such a dumbass.
It’s nearly one in the morning but that means it’s not quite ten in Las Vegas. Hesitantly, I pull up Sasha’s contact info and stare at it for a beat. Then I hit the button and she answers on the first ring.
“Ross?” She doesn’t sound mad or sleepy or anything except…normal. Like she always does. “How are you?”
“It’s been a rough…week.”
“I’m sure it has. How can I help?”
