I pointed toward the door.
“Your mom?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Dylan? Lila?”
Again, no.
“Amanda?”
The name came last. More careful.
I nodded.
Something shifted in his face. His eyes narrowed as he searched mine. I pointed at him first, then lifted both hands. One finger held up for Amanda. One for him. Slowly, deliberately, I hooked my two fingers together. Showing unity.
He stared at my fingers. Then back at me.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Stop it.”
My jaw tightened. I folded my arms across my chest. Then I repeated the gesture. Firmer this time. Insisting.
An angry huff slipped out of him.
He rubbed his palm over his mouth, exhaled, then nodded almost too fast.
“Okay,” he said. “But only for you. If you really, really want this.”
The tension drained from my face. My shoulders eased. A small nod followed, then a soft smile.
He smiled back. “Okay.” Then he looked away. “Can you …” he began cautiously. “Can you make sure you tell Dylan about this, though? So he knows it’s what you wanted? I mean me and Amanda together.”
I nodded, and Brian pulled me closer. His breath was warm against my skin.
My eyes closed, and for a moment it felt as if I could die right here, right now. In peace.
Knowing my kids and my husband would be okay after my death was the most precious thing a dying mother and wife could ever have.
I thanked whatever force was out there for every breath I still had in me.
Soon, I would die a free woman.
Declared innocent.
A victim, not a monster.
A loved and loving mother.
A loved and loving daughter.
A loved and loving wife.
And, maybe sometimes, when daylight faded and the night settled quietly over an endless sky, one of them would look up. Standing still. Hands tucked into their pockets as the stars glittered above.
Their thoughts would drift to me, wondering if one day we would meet again. Somewhere among the stars.
Then my last words would come back to them.
