Emma hesitated.
“He told me there was undeveloped film inside.”
My stomach tightened.
“So you developed it.”
She nodded.
“I thought you’d want to see the photographs.”
I looked at the wall.
“You developed film from my old camera, printed the pictures, and displayed them without asking me?”
Emma’s smile disappeared.
“You always sounded sad when you talked about losing it.”
“I said I lost it.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Emma went quiet.
There were parts of my past I had spent decades packaging into neat little stories.
This was one of them.
I didn’t appreciate seeing it ripped open and decorated with string lights.
“Who sold you the camera?”
“Mom—”
“Who?”
Emma took a breath.
“He became interested when I told him it might have belonged to you.”
My stomach tightened further.
“He asked if he could meet you.”
I stared at her.
“And you said yes?”
“I thought maybe you knew each other.”
She hesitated.
“So I invited him to dinner.”
“You invited some man I’ve never met to dinner because he sold you an old camera?”
“I thought you might actually have known him.”
Emma lowered her voice.
“And honestly, you spend so much time taking care of everyone else. I thought maybe having someone new to talk to might be good for you.”
I stared at her.
She quickly added,
“I’m not trying to find you a husband.”
Then she gave me an awkward smile.
“I was just trying to be your wingman.”
“You decided to play matchmaker with a stranger?”
“I thought you might know him.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make.”
I looked back toward the photographs.
“You took something personal, opened it, put it on display, and invited the man who sold it here before telling me anything.”
Emma’s face reddened.
She glanced toward the kitchen, where Noah was humming to himself.
Then she said quietly,
“You’re right. I should have asked.”
“I don’t want to meet him.”
The doorbell rang.
Emma and I both froze.
She opened the door before I could stop her.
An older man stood outside carrying a paper bag.
His hair was silver now.
Time had carved deeper lines around his eyes.
But not enough to prevent me from recognizing him instantly.
I stared.
“Stephen.”
His expression changed.
“Alana.”
Forty years disappeared in a second.
“You still have a remarkable talent for appearing after I’ve already made up my mind.”
He glanced toward the garage.
“I knew this might be awkward.”
“Awkward?”
I folded my arms.
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
Emma stepped between us.
“I invited him, Mom.”
“I know.”
I looked directly at Stephen.
“I’m sure you still know how to make yourself sound reasonable.”
He lowered the paper bag.
“I came because I wanted to return something that belonged to you.”
“You already sold it.”
“I didn’t know you would want it.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“You never understood what I wanted.”
Then I started pulling photographs from the wall.
Stephen watched.
“Alana.”
“Don’t.”
“Please look at the pictures in order.”
“I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
“I know.”
His voice was calm.
Then he looked toward Emma.
“Would you mind if I showed her something?”
Emma looked at me.
I hated that she was waiting for permission.
And hated even more that part of me wanted to know.
“Fine.”
Stephen entered the garage.
He kept his distance.
Then he pointed toward one photograph near the corner.
I recognized it immediately.
Stephen was leaning toward my friend Selena.
Their faces were close.
From that angle, it looked exactly like they were kissing.
My stomach tightened.
“That one.”
Stephen nodded.
“I thought so.”
“What exactly did you think?”
“That you’d see it now and think exactly what you thought forty years ago.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to remember one photograph after forty years?”
“I hoped you might remember what happened after you saw it.”
Unfortunately, I remembered everything.
The humiliation.
The anger.
Stephen reaching for my hand.
Me pulling away.
Me refusing to hear any explanation.
I had been twenty-five.
And absolutely convinced that being certain meant being right.
I saw that one photograph.
Then I walked out.
I left the camera behind.
Later, I told everyone I had lost it.
“You never let me explain,” Stephen said.
He pointed toward the next picture.
“Look.”
The following photograph showed Selena laughing.
Our friend Carl stood beside her with his arm around her shoulders.
Then another.
Stephen between them.
Everyone smiling.
Another showed Selena leaning against Carl while Stephen reached toward her plate for food.
Then another.
And another.
The entire sequence was ordinary.
Friends at a picnic.
Laughing.
Eating.
