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I told him everything I could. It wouldn’t make him understand. How could it when I didn’t understand myself? But at least he’d know he wasn’t losing his mind.

Lake stayed silent, sipping his tea, his presence steady and grounding.

Jamie asked questions. Some I could answer. Some I couldn’t. He fiddled constantly with his wedding ring, repeatedly drawing my attention to it. How long after my death had he married? A year? Ten? It had no bearing on anything, and yet I wanted to know.

“And that brings us to now,” I finished. “I wanted to see my grave.” Jamie shook his head, still struggling to wrap his head around what I’d told him, which was hardly surprising. It wasn’t every day you were fed a tale of death and resurrection. Not unless you went to church at Easter. And I was a long way from being Jesus.

“The last thing I expected was to find someone I knew there,” I said. “What were you doing there?”

His laugh bore more than a tinge of embarrassment. “Have you seen what date it is?”

I checked my watch, frowning. Suddenly, it clicked. “It’s the anniversary of our first date.”

Jamie looked pleased that I’d worked it out. “It is,” he agreed. He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed a better day to visit you than the anniversary of your death. Better memories.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Would you have gotten around to searching for me?” Jamie asked.

I thought about it. “To what end?”

“Closure, maybe.” He crumbled a blueberry muffin between his fingers, very little of it having been eaten. “It wasn’t easy for me either, you know. Those three days in the hospital… sat by your bedside, hoping and praying, they were the longest of my life.”

“Three days?”

“You were in an induced coma after surgery. They said you’d pull through.” His laugh was brittle, the muffin continuing to take the brunt of his feelings. “I believed them. I went home and showered. When I came back, you were gone. I always felt bad about that.”

“I survived for three days,” I said faintly.

Jamie gave a jerky nod. “I talked to you the whole time. They say people in comas can hear you. I’m guessing you didn’t?”

“Not that I remember.” It was a lot to take in. My nightmares always compressed it into hours. You couldn’t relive what you never knew.

Jamie finally registered the state of the muffin, pushing the plate away from him with a look of disgust. “I blamed myself for what happened to you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He heaved out a breath. “I chose the restaurant and the time. Why there? Why then? Why didn’t I pick you up?”

“Because it was near your work,” I said gently. “It wouldn’t have made any sense for you to drive out to get me and then go back.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, back to worrying the ring now the muffin was just a pile of crumbs.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I repeated. “And I’m sorry you ever felt it was. It makes me feel terrible to know you carried that burden for so many years.” I gestured to the ring. “I’m glad you found someone. How long have you been married?”

Jamie smiled. “Ten years. Korbin’s a good man. We have two children. It took us a long time to get approved for adoption, but once we did, Amelia and Sammy came in the space of a couple of years. Amelia’s six in a couple of months, and Sammy is three.”

“I’m glad you’re happy.” I was, but there was no ignoring the pang that asked whether if things had gone differently, that might have been us.

“Do you have any photos?” Lake asked.

Jamie lit up as he pulled out his phone. I took the chance to compose myself while I went through the motions of saying how cute the kids were. No lie there, they were. And Korbin was handsome. They looked like a perfect family.

I turned my head away to watch the rain come down, the weather a perfect metaphor for the storm going on in my head.

Lake broke the silence. “I’ve been helping Baxter work through a few things. That’s why we were at the cemetery today. We went to the car park yesterday.”

“That was fun,” I muttered, my gaze still fixed on the puddles. “Today was a breeze in comparison.”