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She turned to me.
“Signs are not the same as coincidences, though the cynic will say so. But a sign feels different than a mere coincidence. You feel it deep in your soul. Sometimes a whale is just a whale, breaching on the horizon. Sometimes it’s not. Sometimes the whale comes right when you need to see it, and you are comforted.”
I nodded, mostly to be respectful, but I didn’t deny that the islands had an energy that was different than anywhere else. The ocean and forest and the great yawning canyon… They all had so much to offer just by existing.
“Don’t you find it strange,” Momi was saying, “that from the very beginning, Morgan wanted you to be with Faith?”
I thought for a moment and realized she was right. From the very first time I mentioned the beautiful tourist with the sprained ankle, he seemed hellbent on making something of us.
Momi nodded, reading my thoughts. “He was so happy with my Nalani, and he wanted you to have that happiness too. Urgently, it seems. I feel that Morgan encouraging you toward Faith was a sign. As if he knew, somehow, you would very soon need to have someone there to catch you.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff, Momi,” I said, my throat thick. “He didn’t know what was going to happen to him.”
“Not on the surface, no. Not in his everyday consciousness. But perhaps, somewhere deep down where we can’t remember, there are secrets that aren’t so secret.”
She smiled at my dubious expression.
“Even if these are the musings of a crazy old woman, it brings me peace to think he was trying to protect you as best he could. And isn’t doing what brings you peace the most important thing?” She reached out to take my hand, her gaze intent. “Loving her, Asher. Didn’t that bring you peace?”
I started to tell her it was too late. The terrible things I said to Faith… How I hurt her. Blamed her…
But Momi deserved the truth. And maybe I did too.
“Yeah. It did.”
“There you go.” She smiled and patted my hand. “Now go on. I have to take a nap and you have things to do.”
I kissed her cheek, warm gratitude for her flooding over some of the cold pain, then receding and leaving behind a little bit of hope.
“The storm’s going to be bad,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want to come live with us? The offer still stands.”
She shook her head. “This is my home. We have weathered more than a few storms together. You have your own home to build.” She fixed me an arch look. “And I think you know who belongs in it and who doesn’t.”
The rain was coming down in sheets and the sky darkening to black by the time I got to my place. Chloe rushed to greet me as I came in.
“It’s getting bad out there,” she said. “You okay?”
“Fine. Where’s Kal?”
“Upstairs. He’s had dinner and is playing in his room. He says the storm doesn’t bother him but I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell how he’s doing. He’s so quiet lately. More than usual.”
I nodded and moved away from Chloe who was standing too close to me. She’d been moved in for two weeks which I now knew was fourteen days too long. It was wrong. Her and me…all wrong, and we’d never be right. She would never be who I wanted to come home to, and I hated myself for giving her hope that we had a chance.
“Chloe, we have to talk,” I began, and then my glance landed on the large manila envelope on the kitchen counter. “What’s this?”
“That came for you today,” she said, following me to the kitchen. “It’s from your business manager. I think they’re photographs.”
Wordlessly, I took the envelope that was heavy and stiff and sat with it on the couch. I tore it open, and photos spilled over the coffee table. Morgan’s photos. A note from Al Harris said they were the last roll in his personal camera.
With shaking hands, I fanned them out, hardly able to look at any one for longer than a moment. Photos of Nalani and Kal at their house, laughing or being silly. Of us at a dinner on their lanai with the sun sinking into the ocean. Of Momi and her quiet, knowing smile. And of Faith and me, sitting at their table. She was laughing—full and real—and so goddamn beautiful, my chest constricted. And there was me, smiling at her, seeing only her because even then, she was becoming my entire world.
I felt Chloe hovering.
“They’re beautiful photos,” she said. “Morgan’s?”
I nodded, and the grief sank razor-sharp teeth into my chest. “They’re his so he’s not in them. He’s not in one single fucking picture…”
I bent, covering my eyes with one hand as a terrible sob tightened around me like an iron band. The couch dipped as Chloe sat beside me, her hands on me, wrapping around my arm. Her touch brought me back from the brink because she wasn’t the one I could fall apart with. Somehow, I sucked it all back down, forcing it down my gullet as she rested her cheek on my shoulder. I looked over at her, confused, likely my brow furrowed the way Faith always teased me about.
