Warm and comforting, the aroma of garlic and rosemary permeated Lorna's apartment. Even though they were only eating salad and spaghetti, Jason had insisted on lighting the candles. He grinned and remarked, "It's a special occasion." Amused by the boy's excitement and a little taken aback by how effortless it all felt, Michael laughed as he put down the silverware.
As she tossed the salad, Lorna moved around the kitchen with the same ease and composure as before, a faint hum slipping from her lips. From the dining table, Michael observed her, her features dancing in the flickering candlelight.
"You still hum when you cook," he remarked, grinning a little.
She took a quick look behind her. "Antiquated customs."
"I thought you did it to prevent things from burning."
Something deep within him was pulled by the sound of her laughter. "You're not incorrect. In the past, I have ruined numerous dinners.
"And I acted as though I enjoyed every bite." He grinned.
They both chuckled. The years between them briefly vanished, exposing the ease with which they once coexisted.
They shared stories over dinner, including Jason's most recent space obsession, Michael's college hair dyeing incident, and Lorna's botched attempt to make banana bread using sea salt rather than sugar. Jason almost dropped his fork from laughter.
Then, leaving Lorna and Michael on the balcony with mugs of tea and the city lights blinking below, Jason went to his room to complete a school assignment.
"That's odd," Lorna muttered. "This feels so simple."
Michael gave her a look. "Perhaps it's because we have always been ourselves. We simply got lost while traveling."
She gave a nod. "And now?"
He didn't respond. Not immediately.
Rather, he gazed into the darkness. "I'm not sure. I hope that this isn't the end for us. I don't want to force you into something you're not prepared for, though.
She didn't answer. Though it was full of unspoken things, their silence wasn't icy.
Hope, wounds, and memories.
Michael finally got up to go. He was led to the door by Lorna.
"I'm grateful," he said.
"For supper?"
"For allowing me to enter once more."
She gave a small smile. "Good night, Michael."
He nodded after he paused, wanting to say something more. "Good night."
The dimly lit foyer echoed with the sound of his penthouse's front door clicking.
Loosening his collar, Michael entered the house while recalling how Lorna had grinned when Jason gave him a good-night hug.
He didn't expect to see anyone waiting
But there she was—Heather—sitting like she owned the place, sipping a glass of wine on the couch.
He stopped. "What in the world are you doing here?"
She brushed imaginary wrinkles from her smooth black dress and stood slowly. She shrugged gently and said, "I still had a key." "Thought I would use it before it was useless."
"It's useless already," he remarked scathingly. "You're not supposed to be here."
With a smooth voice, Heather walked toward him. "Come on, Michael. I've given you some room. I have exercised patience. However, I can't act as though we didn't have a genuine relationship."
His voice was low as he said, "There was something." "But the instant you stood me up at the aisle it died. And now I won't let you come between me and my son."
Heather's eyes grew gloomy. "You mean Lorna."
"I'm referring to Jason. And yes, Lorna as well. You lied and altered everything to fit your needs. And because I didn't want to feel alone, I allowed it to happen. However, I'm done allowing guilt to control my life."
Her smile wavered. "You're choosing her instead of me."
"I'm going with the truth instead of lies. Drama should be replaced with peace. My son is my choice. And yes, if Lorna is involved in that. I will always pick her."
The fire behind Heather's eyes cooled, but her jaw tightened. She had arrived to retrieve something, but now she realized it was gone.
She placed the wine on the table.
"Goodbye, Michael."
He didn't respond.
He saw her go, the door closing behind her with a final click.
After standing there for a while, Michael moved to the window. Beneath him, the city glowed, open and expansive like the future itself, uncertain but not impossible.