“The people who truly love you don't ask what your suffering costs them. They open the door.”
A knock sounded behind us.
We both froze.
Then Alex called from the hallway.
“Are you two going to let me stand out here all morning?”
Sophie rolled her eyes.
“Speak of the criminal.”
“Former criminal,” Alex shouted through the door.
“Debatable.”
I laughed and stood.
For years, doors had represented secrets in our family.
Locked bridal-suite doors.
Warehouse doors.
Safe-deposit boxes.
Hospital rooms.
Apartments hiding evidence.
Doors closed by fear and opened by force.
But this one was different.
I crossed the room.
Turned the lock.
And opened it.
Alex stood there holding pastries and three coffees.
His hair was almost entirely gray now.
He looked at Sophie.
Then at me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes.
“You both have that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that usually costs me money.”
