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Ali shook her head. “I want to. I want to spend time with you.”

“We don’t have to go out to spend time together,” Charlotte countered, thumb sweeping across the nape of Ali’s neck, kneading the tension she found there.

“Introvert.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Ali huffed a quiet, tired laugh. “But pasta.”

“We can have it delivered.”

“We’re already in the car.” Ali rubbed both hands over her face. “Just… drive. Please.”

The edge in Ali’s voice stung, but Charlotte swallowed it down. By now, she knew not to push when Ali was wound too tight. She shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, letting the silence settle between them.

Ali brightened a little when they reached Bella Amore. Just a flicker. But the moment they settled into their seats, her glow faded again like a candle caught in a draft.

Charlotte tried to make conversation. The worry must have been written all over her face, because guilt swam openly in Ali’s eyes. Her shoulders curved inward right before she murmured something about the bathroom and slipped away, leaving Charlotte at their table.

Her fingers curled around the stem of her wineglass as the restaurant’s chatter buzzed, accompanied by clinking cutlery. Every second that passed her stomach tightened. Should she follow? Should she give space?

Her phone vibrated. Ali’s updated contact name titled her text bubble.

Lina

Today 6:09PM

I’m sorry. I just need a minute.

Charlotte breathed a little easier, some of the tension spooling out of her spine.

Take all the time you need.

I’m here if you need me.

Thank you.

Her fingers drummed idly on the tablecloth. Out over the roof, the sun slipped lower, turning everything its light touched gold. Her perfect plan to tell Ali everything faded as the light dimmed. The night wouldn’t unfold the way she hoped.

Ali needed something else this evening and Charlotte would give it to her the moment she knew what it was.

Soft footfalls broke her spiraling thoughts. Charlotte turned just in time to see Ali returning to the table, face splotched, nose red. She sank into her chair and hid her face in her hands.

Charlotte waited, leaning forward as empathy expanded, making her chest ache.

When she finally looked up, her eyes were wide and pleading for Charlotte to understand something there were no words for.

“I forgot.”

For a moment, Charlotte’s mind raced through possibilities until it collided with the truth. Ali’s mother died right before her birthday…

“Lina,” she whispered, reaching across the table. “When was it?”

Ali grabbed hold of her hand without hesitation. “Tuesday,” she hiccuped. “I’ve never forgotten before.”

A familiar ache rippled through Charlotte’s chest. She remembered the first time her own grief faded enough to skip right over the date. Guilt had carved her open… like forgetting made her a bad daughter and the strands of his memory she clung to were slipping through her fingers. Like he was truly lost to her.

There was only one thing she could do.