Part 3“So, he just disappeared?” Carmen asked.
Under the warm April sun that had helped the crocuses bloom, now standing at my brother-in-law’s car, the previous October felt like the briefest dream. “Yup.”
“And you never saw or heard from him again?”
I had the trowel in one hand, the crocus bulb in the other. “I’d have told you if I had.”
“You didn’t tell me everything.”
“Everything except about the money.”
“Uh-uh. No. No, you did not. You told me you and Z broke things off.” Damn Carmen’s perfect memory. “That you decided to go your separate ways.”
Carmen knew my M.O. She knew how gay men dated, the stereotype that was still sometimes true. I flirted, I f****d, I forgot them, and that worked for me just fine, up until I met Z. Though I didn’t come right out and claim that was what
