Lemony received a letter the first night he spent back in the City after an unpleasant time abroad.
"Heard you are back. Please meet us in the usual place, at the usual time. We have a lot to talk.
B . B"
The letter was typed, except for the signature. He recognized the handwriting, but he couldn't say if the dot between the two initials was a comma or a period, or better saying, if the person was signing for two people or only one. It didn't matter much, as it said "meet us", but thinking about it allowed him a little more time not thinking about the actual meeting.
He remembered the usual place, where he and her usually shared a large root beer float, one glass, two straws and two spoons. Meanwhile, he rolled his eyes at them, in his words, "acting like a teenage love-struck couple", while drinking his tea despite her warnings that the caffeine would mess his sleep schedule, as the usual time was late at night, when there was no one else in the small shop.
Lemony missed those nights. He missed the friendly bickering, and she resting her head on his shoulder, and he holding his hand and pressing the smallest kiss when the waiter turned his back to them. He missed their plans, all the trips to museums and libraries and theaters and zoos all over the world that they took seating on those stools, and the mansion with a garden with flowers from all over, the bedroom with an unusually large bed, the kitchen with enough space for all of them to cook together, the published books beside the awards beside the portraits of their happy family, the three children reading on the couch while they argued about whose turn it was to take the trash out, and all the dreams that only existed in their hearts and the pages of their journals. He missed those nights when the world was only the three of them and everything was possible, and for as long as their cup and glass were not empty it was like all treachery in the world did not exist.
Everything was different now. They were married, he was on the lam. A lot was left unsaid when Lemony left, as everything happened so suddenly he had no time to talk to anyone. And then when he finally got time, it was not safe to do so. Then, everyone received the news of his death, and now he was back, alive but not in less danger and trouble.
They had a lot to talk about. The two of them were married, and expecting, or at least he was told so. He had a lot to explain, and a lot more to ask. Would Lemony even get the chance? Maybe they had believed the lies that were spread about him and simply wanted to tell him to stay away from their family. Maybe they had found that being with each other brought them all the happiness they needed, that they didn't need anything or anyone else, and now they wanted to make sure he knew that what they had together was over. Maybe the whole thing was a trap to catch the traitor. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The more he thought, more unpleasant scenarios came to him.
Maybe it was nothing of that. Maybe they did want to continue from where they were before he left, but what good was that? They were not 17 anymore. There was real danger out there, people who would truly kill Lemony if they got the chance, as a revenge for things he had done or to prevent him from spreading things he knew. Anyone who got near him would be in danger. The two of them were married and even if they were not expecting yet they soon would be. They couldn't afford to have this sort of danger in their lives.
"I can't make it. Actually, it's better for us not to meet.
L."