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I eat the bacon and eggs, forcing myself to choke them down. I drink my coffee. I try not to feel my heart breaking.
Upstairs, Flora’s door unlocks and bangs open, and then she is running down the stairs, her work shoes pounding on the treads. She comes into the kitchen, her face wet with tears and her hands full of opened envelopes.
“I hadn’t read them,” she says, her voice shaky. “I couldn’t bear it. But I kept them.”
The eggs sit uneasily in my stomach. I stand up.
“You did say it. You said you were wrong,” she says, crying.
“Every year.” My own throat is tight. Oh please, oh please…
“Oh, Ev.” She sobs once. “I’m sorry, too. I’m so sorry. Forgive me for holding the grudge and not reading these.”
I take the envelopes out of her hands and pull her into my arms. “Doesn’t matter now. Now you know how I feel. Now you know that I never gave up on you. I love you so much, Flor.”
“I love you so much, Ev.” She holds me tight. “Would you marry me all over again?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Take me to bed and make me yours all over again.”
“If you’ll make me yours again,” I say, through the tightness in my throat. “Keep me, my love. Keep us.”
“For always,” she whispers, and lifts her head for kisses.
