122. Seb
SEB
Windermere.
Lily Windermere.
It was a beautiful name. It fit her, he thought, as he gazed at her in the soft glow of the nighttime lighting, so much better than Perkins.
They were alone now, for a little while at least, before the nurse came to shoo her away, if she dared.
No one could shoo her anywhere on campus now. All of it was hers.
He‘d asked Dean Meade all of the questions he would have if he were Lily. All the ones she was too shocked, or too unconcerned, with. He didn’t blame her.
What was the point of all this, with the time she had left?
But Seb was going to do it. He would weave time out of straw for her, if he had to.
He asked about the board, endowments, and earnings.
It was the first time in days that he felt present in his own body.
It was so good to have something to think about other than himself, his pain, his trauma.
“I’m sorry,” she had said, when they were finally alone.
“For what?” he’d asked.
“For going alone.”
“Well, I’m sorry too, then.” She’d frowned at him, the same frown that he loved so well now. “For not being there when you needed me.”
All this time she’d insisted that she was only helping him, that this was his quest, his prize to earn. He smiled privately at how wrong she’d been.
It had been her story all along.