Chapter 16

He felt a strong kinship with Arthur Davis and his lifetime of regrets at that moment. But you couldn’t undo your mistakes, or anyone else’s. Mistakes were written in permanent marker, and Arthur would have to learn that the hard way. Everyone did.

It was barely after seven, and Arthur was in a jail cell in Tijuana, when Oliver became aware of sounds of life in the kitchen. The quiet murmur of conversation and the smell of coffee and bacon lured him out the door and down the hall.

Mia sat at the island eating eggs and toast and flipping through rental listings on what must have been David’s iPad, and David cooked at the stove.

“Morning.” David shot him a smile as if the night before hadn’t happened and went back to cooking.

“Hey.” Oliver started to sit down but stopped himself. “Can I help?”