That night she planned to tell Owen she wanted a divorce. If she wasn’t married, Leo would think he had no leverage. The truth was, Leo didn’t even understand the leverage he had. Irene would have done just about anything to keep the affair from Luna. She wasn’t even sure Owen would mind. She only knew that the first person he’d tell was Luna.
Irene wanted one more normal day before everything changed. She put on a Fila tracksuit, along with a giant gold chain that Luna got her for her last birthday. Luna was always ridiculously amused when Irene wore that combo. Irene jogged over to Luna’s place, circled the house, and knocked on the back door. Irene wondered if it would be the last time.
November 2019
Luna was on her way to meet Griff when she made a detour onto Owen’s street and parked in front of his house. While Luna wasn’t certain she wanted to dive back into their friendship, she did feel lousy about her accusation and thought she ought to get her apology out of the way. She climbed out of the car and strode along the walkway in front of his house. She searched the sidewalk for the place she was shot, expecting to see a bloodstain. Instead, she found a layer of light-gray paint on cement. That must have been Maya, she thought.
“I was pissed off when she painted over it,” Owen said.
Luna looked up. Owen was standing on his porch in his bathrobe.
“I thought you’d want to see it first,” he said.
“You were right,” Luna said.
“It’s my sidewalk, right?”
“My blood,” Luna said.
Owen started to laugh, then stopped himself. He was feeling a slurry of conflicting emotions. Anger and guilt were primary, but happiness was also in there. The last time he saw her, she was in a hospital bed.
“They caught the guy because of her,” Luna said. “I’m inclined to forgive her other missteps.”
“Me too,” Owen said, taking a sip of his drink.
It was his second drink of the day. Luna’s arrival made him want another. He was trying to decide how he felt. He understood that he owed Luna an apology, but he also believed that one was due to him. He didn’t know if Luna was there to ask more questions or to make peace. She was eyeing the drink in his hand. He knew she was drawn to the sound of ice clinking.
“Don’t judge me,” Owen said.
Luna wasn’t sure if he was talking about the bathrobe at two in the afternoon or the drink. Luna didn’t have an opinion on either. Frankly, both sounded appealing.
Owen invited Luna inside by turning around and walking back into his house. Luna followed him into the kitchen. Half a pot of coffee was cold and stale on the counter. Luna took a mug from the shelf and poured a cup. She heated it in the microwave. The matter-of-fact way Luna made herself at home made Owen nostalgic for the days when he wouldn’t have noticed.
“Mason and Casey were over last night,” Luna said.
“I know. He texted me this morning.”
“How did you keep that from me all these years?”
Owen shrugged. The microwave beeped. Luna retrieved her coffee.
“It wasn’t my secret,” he said. “Why are you here?”
“I came to apologize.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
Luna had wanted to ease into it, wait for the right moment, but Owen seemed impatient.
“I’m so sorry about Irene,” Luna said. “That sounds so…How do you apologize for being the reason someone died?”
“It’s not your fault. She’s dead because of the guy who shot her,” Owen said.
“If I’m out of the picture, she’s alive,” Luna said.
Owen shrugged. That wasn’t the apology he wanted.
“I’m also sorry about the things I said before. I was angry and it clouded my judgment,” Luna said.
“My turn,” Owen said. “What I did to you and Griff, it’s unforgivable. There’s no good explanation. I didn’t want to lose you to him.”
Both apologies were earnestly offered and accepted, but the timing was off. One was long overdue and the other still a fresh wound. Luna sipped her coffee. It was sour and stale.
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” Luna said, placing the mug in the sink, debating whether she should wash it and leave or just leave. She was going to just leave.
“So, is this like goodbye or something?” Owen asked. “You know, the more permanent kind?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
She’d believed up until the night before that the door to their friendship was closed. She hadn’t had enough time to rethink that opinion. Watching Luna walk toward the door, Owen couldn’t help but remember the last time. He could still hear the sound of the gunshot. He didn’t want her to go.