A sleeve shortened.
A seam adjusted.
Proof that her hands had spent hours making him comfortable.
He looked toward her.
Then smiled.
A small, familiar smile.
Her stomach turned.
She almost stood.
Sarah did not grab her.
She put one hand on the bench between them.
Chloe looked at it.
Then at the door.
Then down at her own shoes.
She could leave if she needed to.
Knowing that helped her remain.
When she spoke, her voice shook.
She spoke anyway.
Afterward, in the corridor, she apologized to her attorney.
“I wasn’t steady.”
“You answered.”
“I forgot a date.”
“We corrected it.”
Chloe stared at him.
He looked gently puzzled.
“Remembering everything perfectly is not the condition for telling the truth.”
She repeated that sentence to herself on the journey home.
Then again that night.
It took time before she began believing it.
Lorenzo saw her unexpectedly outside the alterations shop in early spring.
She was locking the door.
He had been visiting a business two streets away and stopped on the opposite pavement when he recognized her.
He did not cross immediately.
Chloe noticed him.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then she lifted a hand.
He approached.
“You’re working here.”
“Yes.”
“Do you like it?”
“Most days.”
He looked at the display window.
A wedding dress stood beside a school blazer.
Ordinary lives waiting to be fitted properly.
“That seems like a good answer.”
She studied him.
He looked tired.
Less carefully composed than she remembered.
“How are the questions?”
He gave a short laugh.
“Numerous.”
