Page 38 of Beautifully Broken
Ghost-food.
The term lodged somewhere between my ribs. I stared at the panini. It was warm and melty and unapologetically not Hannah’s. My throat tightened as I reached for it. Eating this felt like betrayal. Like loosening another memory from the tight grip I’d kept on her.
The first bite was good. Too good.
Emily didn’t look smug, but I could feel the smirk simmering beneath her expression.
“You used to love those,” she said casually.
I did. Before everything. Before car accidents and white caskets and trying to remember how to breathe.
She let the silence sit, the way she always did, like it was allowed to exist without being fixed. That was something Hannah never understood. ButEmily? She lived in the quiet with me. Filled it without speaking. Then she hit me with it.
"The ten-year reunion’s this weekend."
I blinked. “That’s this weekend?”
“Mmhmm,” she said, popping a cranberry into her mouth.
“Saturday night. Thought you might want to come.”
I didn’t answer.
Crowds still overwhelmed me. Too many voices, too much noise, too much effort to be okay. I could handle one or two people at a time. Any more than that, and it felt like drowning.
“You don’t have to decide right now.” Her voice was softer. “But I think it might be good for you.”
“Because nothing says healing like name tags and awkward small talk?”
She laughed, bright and effortless. “Exactly.”
She stood, brushing a crumb from her skirt. Her bracelets jingled as she picked up her tray. “Think about it, okay? And now,” she made a face, “I have to go show the Johnsons the Bradford house for the fifth time. They need to just buy it already.”
She was halfway to the door when she paused, turned slightly, and nodded at someone behind me. “He’s all yours.”
Nate.
I didn’t have to look to know. He slid into the seat across from me like he owned the place. Coffee in hand. Cookie already half-gone.
“Ambush or divine timing?” I asked.
“Both,” he said with a grin. “I mean, you’re still a flight risk, so we’re covering our bases.”
I shook my head, but the corners of my mouth lifted. Slightly. “She wants me to come to the reunion.”
“Figured.” He took a slow bite. “You gonna?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready.”
Nate wiped his hands and leaned forward, elbows on the table. His tone shifted.
“You know I lost her too.” My chest tightened. We didn’t talk about that day. Not often. But we both lived with the fallout. “She wasn't just your wife,”he continued. “She was my sister. My twin sister. Gone in one god-awful heartbeat. And yeah, it still guts me. But I’ve had time to think about what she would’ve wanted for us.”
I swallowed hard. I knew what was coming.
“I don’t think she’d want you eating a sandwich you hate while hiding from people who still give a damn.”
The words weren’t cruel. They were clean. Honest. Nate had a way of slicing through the mess.
