I never pressured any of them.
I simply kept showing up.
That summer, Claire and I took the children to Pelican Cove for one final weekend before school began.
The beach was crowded, the sun was bright, and the children spent most of the morning building an enormous sandcastle near the shoreline.
Around noon, everyone became hungry and thirsty.
The food stand beside the pier had a long line, so Claire offered to stay with the children while I bought drinks and fries.
She brushed sand from my shoulder, kissed my cheek, and smiled.
“Hurry before the line gets even longer.”
I grinned and walked away.
I did not know those would be the last ordinary words she ever said to me.
I was gone for no more than twelve minutes.
When I returned, the children were still playing in the sand.
Claire’s towel was spread beside the cooler. Her book lay open, and her sunglasses rested neatly on top of it.
