“By whom?” I asked.
She smiled without humor. “Everyone.”
“That’s exhausting.”
“It is.”
“Try being interesting instead.”
She laughed then, a real laugh, and for one second I heard the little girl who used to make blanket forts in the living room and insist they were castles. The one who had once climbed into my room during thunderstorms because she believed I could keep lightning out.
Family, I learned, does not heal in one cinematic gesture. It heals in inches, if it heals at all. In restraint. In changed behavior. In what people do repeatedly once applause is no longer available.
Almost a year after the engagement party, I hosted a gala on the rooftop of the same property where Logan had tried to impress investors with my work.
Founders. partners. community leaders. artists. operators. People I respected and who respected me. Nothing extravagant, just elegant. Good food, better conversation, no desperation in the air.
Before I went downstairs, I stood alone on the upper balcony with a glass of wine. The city spread out below in millions of points of light, indifferent and alive.
