Chapter 141

"Oh," I said faintly.

Over the mantel hung a large photograph of a road running through a green landscape. The ground rose up in the center of the photo to split in two, effectively turning the road into a half-open zipper. The photographer had taken an item rendered almost invisible through familiarity and shown that through his lens, it contained wonder and surprise, not just utility.

I looked back at Levi and pressed my hands to my cheeks.

"You weren't the only one who got life lessons from their father," Levi said. "I learned never to reveal anything that mattered."

My heart lodged in my chest, beating erratically. I wished I could run my fingers around the edges of our relationship and understand its true shape. There were too many facets to us, and just as with a diamond, more facets didn't mean more brilliance or more sparkle. As my father had said, "If you want to spend the extra money, spend it on clarity."