Page 133 of True Colors

Someone from Finn’s crew had claimed two long tables near the back for the Irish wake, even though neither Anouk nor Cristina was Irish. Finn isn’t either, for that matter. His last name came from the priest who found him—but he likes to pretend otherwise. It gives him roots, he says.

Jackets are slung over chair backs.

Pints are already halfway gone.

A bartender with tattooed forearms and a patient expression keeps them coming without being asked.

“This is….” Anouk searches for the word.

“Not depressing?” Finn supplies.

She snorts despite herself. “Absolutely.”

“Starling!” one of Finn’s colleagues bellows. “You’re late!”

“I had a funeral to go to,” she deadpans.

This medley of people merges and mingle.

Dot and Neil are with the HelixSphere people and my parents. They’re talking about the impact of AI on society. Neil thinks AI is going to decimate society, while Dot isn’t sure, and my father and Ian believe it’s going to save us.

The firefighters are fans of Theo because of a story he wrote about first responders a couple of years ago. They’re listening intently to him talk about life as an embedded war journalist. Ria would much rather he never did that again.

Plates of food appear—shepherd’s pie, baskets of fries, things fried and golden—and disappear just as quickly.

Someone raises a pint.

“To complicated women,” one of the firefighters says.

“To surviving them,” another adds.

Finn lifts his beer. “To Annie—who’s stronger than all of us.”

There’s a chorus of agreement.

Anouk freezes for half a second, clearly overwhelmed, then lifts her glass, too.

“Thank you.” Her voice wobbles with emotion. “For showing up. F-for…this.”

As the evening wears on, the mood shifts—not away from grief, but around it.

The stories get sillier. Laughter comes easier. Someone puts money in the jukebox, and I don’t know how many pints after my father and mother are dancing to Danny Boy.

Anouk sits next to me, her body melting into mine. It’s perfect.

“This is nice,” she marvels. “I didn’t think it would be.”

Finn watches us from across the table. He catches my eye and nods once—approval, trust, a passing of the baton.

“You know what,” Anouk adds slowly, “this place would be too…blue collar for her. She’d hate it.”

I grin. “All the more reason to do it here, then.”

She laughs, resting her head against my shoulder. “Truer words haven’t been said.”

It starts with a kiss. I am planning for it to be goodnight by her doorstep, but it becomes more.

Her lips part, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “I need this, Luther. I need you.”