His face twisted.
"At first? Maybe."
The honesty was ugly but I appreciated it anyway.
David had spent six years believing his marriage to Ruth was honest.
Then, after her death, he found another life hidden inside it.
He came to Malta because this was where it began.
The first time, he sat at the restaurant for three hours and never ordered food.
He returned the following year.
Then again.
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When he found Michael's envelope addressed to me, he searched for a way to contact me.
Before he could decide what to do, Clara saw my daughter post about my trip online.
"Rebecca posted about Malta?"
"She wrote that she was proud of you for finally traveling alone."
I closed my eyes.
That was how David knew where I would be.
"I didn't know your hotel," he said. "I didn't know your schedule. Seeing you in that street truly was chance."
"A convenient chance."
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