She placed the photograph on the table.
“Do you ever think about what would have happened if you hadn’t brought Maya home that night?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you think?”
I considered the question.
“I think I would still be working in my shop. I’d still be calling my mother every Sunday. I’d probably have found another relationship eventually.”
“Perhaps.”
“But I don’t think I’d have understood what I was missing.”
Diane smiled.
“And what were you missing?”
I took her hand.
“Not you, exactly. I didn’t know you existed. I was missing the possibility of a life that didn’t require me to be afraid all the time.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she kissed me.
Outside, the wind moved through the lavender along the south wall. The fire burned low in the hearth Mark had built with his own hands.
I thought about that first night, the rain on the porch roof, and Diane standing in the doorway.
