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“It means when one of you dies, the other does too. Whatever was in me that made me kill—it’s gone. We both know that.”
He moves to the window and looks out.
“So you think I can just let this go?” Myron asks.
“You?” Greg just stares out the window. Then he says, “I don’t think so.”
Myron waits. Greg still has his back to him.
“We’ve done a lot of damage to one another,” Greg says. “Grace thought that whatever was broken inside of me was broken by you that night you were with Emily.”
“Greg?”
“What?”
“You don’t get to put that on me,” Myron says.
“Maybe you’re right.”
Then Greg takes two steps back from the window.
“Greg?”
“It’s okay.”
“What’s okay?”
“It ends now.”
“Greg?”
But he doesn’t listen. Greg Downing gives Myron one last smile before turning back to the window. Then he runs those two steps and hurls himself against the glass. Myron tries to rise to stop him, but his brittle bones scream out in protest. There is nothing he can do anyway. For a moment it seems as though the window won’t give way. But it does. And Greg disappears forever.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Should I end this on a positive note?
It is three days later. We have answered all the questions the Moroccan authorities have asked of us. The American ambassador to Morocco is an old friend. He helps us navigate the legal entanglements.
The three of us are now walking on the tarmac toward my plane. I stand on Myron’s left. Terese stands on his right. We have both threaded our arms through his to keep Myron upright. His gait is slow, though steady. Our days in Morocco have taken their toll. He is weak and exhausted and yet, as predicted, the closure has lifted a weight off him.
Myron winces, stumbles.
Terese tightens her grip on him. “Are you okay?”
Myron manages a nod.
“Anything I can do for you?” she asks.
Myron gestures at the plane with his chin. “Help me get into the Mile High Club?”
I laugh out loud.
I love this man.
Terese rolls her eyes. “You never change.”
“Is that a yes?”
