“I wanted to do something extraordinary for you.”
“You did.”
“That’s the problem.”
He blinked.
I continued.
“You spent eleven months doing something incredibly loving.”
“And somewhere in the middle, you decided loving me gave you permission to manage what I knew.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“I would have wanted to be part of this.”
“I know.”
I gave him a look.
“Sorry.”
“Right.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Adrian took something from his jacket.
Not jewelry.
A small black notebook.
He placed it on the table.
“What is that?”
“Restoration log.”
“I wrote down every item.”
“Every decision.”
“Every person who handled anything.”
“I thought someday you might want to know exactly what happened.”
That was so painfully Adrian that I wanted to kiss him and yell at him simultaneously.
I chose neither.
I opened the notebook.
Dates.
Costs.
Contacts.
Notes.
Do not remove tape hiss — Claire may want originals preserved.
