Marisol’s eyes filled. “Anna was my aunt.”
“Anna was my wife.”
She pressed both hands to her mouth and sank into a chair.
Lily climbed into my lap like she’d known me her whole life.
“I’m not giving you my money,” I told them. “I’m giving you a foundation, a future, and the time I have left. If you’ll have me.”
Lily climbed into my lap like she’d known me her whole life.
That night, I sat at their small kitchen table, eating beef stew from a chipped bowl.
For the first time since 1989, I was not the loneliest man in Texas.
