“My mother told me there was nothing left after the estate tax.”
Daniel’s hand began to shake as he reached into his jacket pocket again.
He did not pull the paper out, but his fingers clamped around the edge of the fabric, the yellow corner shifting slightly in the shadow of his coat.
“Your mother lies, Sav,” he said.
“She is status-conscious, Daniel, not a criminal,” I said, defending the woman who had refused to attend my wedding.
“She wanted me to marry a man with a gold watch. She did not get her way, so she is being difficult.”
“There is something you do not know about me, Sav,” Daniel said.
He stopped, his breath catching in his throat.
He looked at me with an expression I had never seen on his face before, a mix of deep regret and absolute certainty.
He looked like a man who had found a leak in a dam but did not have the tools to plug it.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice rising slightly.
He did not answer.
He stared at his grease-stained hands, then slowly let go of the paper inside his pocket.
“Just that I would do anything to keep you safe,” he said.
“I am safe,” I said, though my fingers were cold despite the heat in the diner.
The sky was turning a dark, bruised purple as we walked out to his old Ford truck.
The air smelled of humidity and incoming rain, the heavy Ocala heat settling over the asphalt in thick waves.
I walked ahead, my cheap lace dress swishing against my shins.
Daniel lingered by the passenger side, his hand deep in his coat pocket.
Through the glass of the cab, I saw him pull the folded yellow paper out and look at it in the flat light of the afternoon.
He stared at the blue ink on the page, his thumb tracing the crease as if he could erase the words written there.
“Daniel,” I called out, holding the door handle.
“Are you coming? The rain is starting.”
He quickly stuffed the paper back into his inside pocket, his face pale under his tan.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition.
I got in beside him, the vinyl seat hot against my legs.
I looked down at the pocket of his jacket, where the corner of the thick yellow page still protruded.
