"You're a person who told the truth to someone who needed to hear it."
"He asked if it was you." She swallowed. "I said yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said he already knew that too. He said you told him." She wiped her nose on her sleeve, a gesture so unglamorous and human that something caught in my throat. "Why did you do that?"
"Because he deserved to hear it from a man, face to face, before he heard it from the girl he loved."
"That's not a normal thing to do."
"Nothing about me is normal."
She studied me for a long time. The kitchen light caught the tears on her lashes and turned them gold. Behind us, Mera moved with studied nonchalance, rinsing the destroyed espresso cup and loading the dishwasher with a level of domestic attention that would have been impressive if she wasn't obviously eavesdropping on every word.
Aurora kissed me. Soft, brief, tasting of tears and the mint gum she always chewed when she was nervous.
