Sam brought Nell's things to the bakery on Wednesday. He waited outside until she finished, holding a bag with the shoulder seam of her shirt caught in the handles.
Nell saw him through the window. She spent longer than she needed to turning off the coffee machine.
He looked tired. His hair was longer at the sides than it ought to be. She used to point that out, and he used to tell her she could cut it if she was feeling brave.
When she came out, he held out the bag.
“Think that's everything,” he said.
“Thanks.”
She'd brought his book and the key to his place. She gave them to him. He looked at the key before putting it in his pocket.
“How are you?”
Nell looked down the street. “Bad.”
“Because of us?”
“Some.”
He waited.
She hadn't meant to tell him here. She hadn't meant to tell him at all today. But he knew the pieces. Jonah, Calder, the bus. She couldn't stand in front of him and pretend those pieces still fitted the way she'd left them.
“Iris was Jonah,” she said.
Sam's face didn't change at first.
“The man online. Before you,” she added.
“I know who Jonah was.”
“It was her. She told me Sunday.”
He took half a step backward.
“No.”
Nell nodded.
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
Sam looked toward the bakery door. “Come here. Sit down.”
“It's locked.”
“Then—”
“I'm standing up fine.”
He put his hand down. She could see him searching for something to do.
“She told you he died,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ.”
He turned away, then back toward her. “I didn't know, Nell.”
“I know you didn't.”
“I'd never—”
“I know.”
He stopped. Nell shifted the bag to her other hand. The shirt seam slid free of the handle.
“Come for a walk?” he asked.
She looked at the dark shop window behind her. Going straight home meant sitting in the flat with everything she'd been thinking all day.
“Not far,” she said.
They went toward the park instead of the water. Sam walked at her pace. He kept his hands in his pockets.
“I nearly called her last night,” Nell said.
He glanced at her.
“I forgot. For a second. I picked up my phone because I was sad and I wanted her.”
Sam's jaw tightened. He didn't offer an answer to it.
“She was there when I got better,” Nell said. “I can't remember that without her.”
They stopped at a bench. A child was pushing an empty swing while his father put a shoe back on a smaller child. Nell sat and watched them.
Sam sat beside her, not touching.
“I turned down the money,” he said after a while.
“When?”
“Friday. Before I knew this.”
Nell looked at him.
“I told her we weren't doing it. I told her I wasn't doing it by myself either.”
“You could have.”
“I know.”
The father got the shoe on. The smaller child immediately kicked it off again. Sam almost smiled. Nell did too, for the same brief second.
He looked down at his hands.
“I kept thinking you'd be happy once it was working,” he said. “I'd get us started, then you'd see.”
Nell pulled the shirt from her bag and folded it over the top. It was the blue one Iris had washed.
“I wanted to go with you,” she said.
“I wanted that too.”
“Then you wanted something else more.”
He took a long breath. “I did.”
They sat while the park grew quieter. Nell wanted to rest her head against him. It was right there, his shoulder. He would let her.
She kept the bag between her feet.
“This doesn't fix us,” she said.
“I wasn't saying it did.”
“I know. I needed to say it.”
He nodded.
Nell rubbed her eyes. Sam took a clean napkin from his jacket pocket and gave it to her.
“You just carry those?”
“Kitchen habit.”
She wiped her face. For once he didn't add a joke. She was grateful and wished he had.
At the park gate, he asked whether she wanted him to walk her home.
“No. Thank you.”
“You can call if you—”
He stopped himself.
Nell held the bag more tightly. “I have Tess.”
“Good.”
She walked away. At the corner she turned to look back. He was still by the gate.
For a second they lifted their hands at the same time. Then Nell turned again and went home.