Reed
Dinner was a revelation.
We didn't talk about the past. We didn't talk about the accident, or the years of cold silence or the lies that had kept us apart.
Instead, we talked about the present. We talked about William's sudden obsession with dinosaurs. We debated the best flavor of ice cream. Wendy told me about a new book she was reading.
I found myself leaning across the table, hanging onto every single word.
This was the Wendy I had caught glimpses of before the accident, but she was entirely different now.
She was stronger, bolder, and completely unapologetic about what she wanted.
And as the night wore on, it became painfully, beautifully obvious what she wanted.
Every time I reached across the table to pour her more wine, her fingers would brush against mine, lingering
