« I’m not ashamed. »
Evie never chased a confession. She just left the door open and waited to see if I had the courage to walk through.
I never did.
One night, I found her sitting on the bottom stair with one hand pressed against the wall.
« Evie? »
She looked up, annoyed that I had caught her. « I’m fine. »
« You’re sitting in the dark. »
I found her sitting on the bottom stair.
« I was resting. »
« On the stairs? »
That made her sigh.
I helped her up, and for one brief second, she leaned her weight into me before pulling away.
In the kitchen, I filled the kettle.
« You don’t have to fuss, » she said.
« I’m making tea. »
« I was resting. »
« Then at least let the water boil first. »
I glanced down at the kettle, embarrassed.
She laughed softly, and for a few minutes, the room felt almost normal. Like I was a husband. Like she wasn’t just a roof I was standing under.
Then my phone buzzed with a text from Jesse.
« How’s the retirement plan? »
I glanced at Evie. She was smiling at the mug I’d made her.
« How’s the retirement plan? »
« Damon? » she asked. « Everything all right? »
« Yeah, » I said, already typing. « Just Jesse being stupid. »
« All good. Once she’s gone, I’m set. »
I hated myself for two seconds.
Then I locked my phone and acted like two seconds of hate was enough.
***
Three mornings later, Evie dropped a spoon on the kitchen floor.
I turned from the stove. « Evie? »
I hated myself for two seconds.
She gripped the counter. Her mouth moved, but no words came out.
« Hey. Look at me. »
Her knees buckled.
I caught her before her head hit the floor.
At the hospital, a doctor with tired eyes found me.
« I’m sorry, » he said. « Her heart failed. »
« She was just eating jam, » I whispered.
« Hey. Look at me. »
***
The funeral was three days later. I wore the coat she bought me.
Claire, Evie’s niece, saw it first.
« Of course you wore that. »
« It’s cold. »
« No. You still know how to use her. »
« I was her husband. »
« You were her project. »
That hit harder than gold digger because part of me knew it was true.
« I was her husband. »
But under the shame, one thought kept pushing forward.
The will.
The next morning, I sat across from Mr. Carson, Evie’s lawyer, downtown.
« The house goes to Claire, » he said.
I sat forward. « That’s not possible. »
« It is, Damon. It’s stated in her will. »
« I was her husband. »
« The house goes to Claire. »
« And you signed an agreement before the marriage. »
« What about her savings? »
« Her liquid assets go to the church’s community charity. »
My throat tightened. « She left me nothing? »
Mr. Carson adjusted his glasses. « She left you one personal item. »
« A check? »
« A shoebox. »
« She left me nothing? »
He placed an old cardboard box on the desk. My name sat across the lid in Evie’s careful handwriting.
I stared at it. « This is all? »
« This is what she asked me to give you. »
« What is it? »
Mr. Carson didn’t look away. « She said this is what you really wanted. »
My fingers felt stiff as I lifted the lid.
The first thing inside was a folded sheet of printed paper. I opened it and saw the words from my text to Jesse:
« All good. Once she’s gone, I’m set. »
« She said this is what you really wanted. »
The office went silent around me.
« Where did she get this? » I asked.
