REMI'S POV
One year.
The specific Tuesday. We had been approximate about it last year — approximately this Tuesday — but I had done the maths since and I was now certain. It was this Tuesday. The exact one. The one in October when he had been eleven minutes from leaving a bar and I had walked in wearing Jade Kim's dress with the worst day of the previous eighteen months behind me, and had sat one seat away from a man who ordered scotch and noticed things.
He brought the tea at seven-fifteen. The correct temperature. Before I asked.
I drank it and watched him over the rim and thought about October. The contract on the island table. The four pages of notes. The page-eight clause. The crackers. The floor in the dark and the shower pressure and the navy curtains I had chosen and then slowl
