Page 78 of Once Upon a Lie

We amble as a trio to the bench Alfred had dedicated in her honor, and the sunlight glints off the brass plaque in its center.

For Avalyn, who made ordinary days extraordinary.

Alfred sits down, brushing his hand over her name. “She used to say the air here smelled like fate. She used to love sitting on this bench and people watching. Her favorite thing to witness was couples in love. First dates. Married with kids. Retirees. She loved love, and she loved seeing love.”

Alfred looks at Shane. “You believe in fate, son?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Shane glances over at me. “What about you, Teeny?”

I shrug. “Maybe.” But when his fingers brush mine, I think, Yeah, maybe I do. I’m starting to believe in a lot of things I didn’t believe in before. Maybe, just maybe, Avalyn is witnessing the first buds of love here today.

We stay at the park for two hours, watching people walk by and listening to Alfred tell more stories about Avalyn, before moving on to her favorite flower shop to buy a bouquet, and then, as late afternoon takes hold, head to our final spot.

It’s not a long drive to the cemetery, but we make a pit stop to buy three balloons and a bag of Tootsie Pops to go with the flowers first.

The cemetery is quiet, peaceful, and the sun provides just enough warmth to make me leave my sweater in the car. Alfred carries the three balloons and flowers, and once we reach Avalyn’s gravestone, Shane hands him the bag of Tootsie Pops so he can set them down beside it.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he says.

“Happy birthday, Avalyn,” Shane adds quietly, and I smile.

Alfred pulls a Sharpie out of his pocket and hands us each a balloon.

“Write her something,” he says. “I swore before she died that I’d never stop telling her new things. Especially secrets. The woman loved secrets.”

I take the Sharpie first and scribble Thanks for sharing your husband with me. He’s the best.

Shane doesn’t show me what he writes, and even though I would desperately love some insight into the man behind the smile, it feels a bit wrong to try to sneak a peek.

When we let them go, the balloons rise—pink, lavender, yellow—disappearing into the Tennessee sky and melding with the colors of the sunset.

“She was my soulmate,” Alfred says softly. “Made life bright and loud and messy. Drove me insane sometimes, but she was worth every minute.”

“She sounds like a perfect handful,” Shane muses, a wistful smile on his face.

“The handful,” Alfred corrects. “And I’d do it all again, even the part where she ruined a pair of khakis at Kroger.”

I groan and laugh. “Oh no, not that story again.”

He laughs, launching into it anyway, telling Shane and me about how Avalyn had her gallbladder removed and underestimated what “light exercise” meant regarding excretion.

“She shit her pants,” Alfred says through hard laughs. “Right there in aisle three.”

Shane laughs so hard he has tears in his eyes, and even though I’ve heard this story more than a few times, I find myself lost in the humor too.

As our laughter settles, Alfred starts to get weepy, so I grab Shane’s hand. “Let’s give him a minute.”

Shane nods, not even hesitating to follow my lead, and we step away from Avalyn’s gravestone to leave Alfred to his memories.

The wind tugs at my hair, soft and cool and slow, blowing it into my face and forcing me to adjust my heading to face Shane directly. He’s watching Alfred like he’s memorizing something sacred, and I lose myself in doing the same—even if it makes me a naive, infatuated fool.

“He really loved her,” he murmurs.

“He still does,” I correct, knowing damn well today and every day that if Alfred had the chance to make a fool of himself in order to fall in love with Avalyn again, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

I want more of Shane. More time. More kisses. More moments. I can only hope he wants the same, but if he doesn’t, I think the risk—for the chance at love—will have been worth it.

I clear my throat. “So . . . there’s this big gala my dad’s company throws every year. The Cordone Ball. It’s black tie and brimming with champagne, lavish food, and a whole bunch of other stuff my mother spends way too much time planning.”