PART 3

At the mechanic, Liam walked straight to the counter.

“I’m here about Meryl’s car.”

The employee glanced at the red-capped key in my hand.

“Oh. You already picked up the spare.”

I slowly turned toward Liam.

“You had a spare made for my car?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“You told me once you locked yourself out of your old car.”

“That happened before we even met, Liam.”

“I know.”

I waited.

He looked embarrassed now.

“I figured if it ever happened again, I’d have one.”

I held up the key.

“And when were you planning to tell me?”

He didn’t answer quickly enough.

“Liam, if you’d asked, I probably would’ve said yes.”

His eyes lifted.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He rubbed both hands over his face.

“Because asking means there was a chance you’d say no.”

That answer made everything suddenly clear.

Liam didn’t just like being prepared.

He needed to know there was always a way in.

I set the red key on the counter between us.

“You’re making keys for doors I never asked you to open.”

“It’s just a spare, Meryl.”

“I know it is.”

I stepped closer.

“And that’s why this scares me. You love me. You’re trying to protect me. But somewhere along the way, you started deciding that being worried gives you permission to make the decision first.”

Liam stared at the floor.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said, “I still dream about the lock.”

I had never heard that before.

Not once.

“The apartment?”

He nodded.

“I’m outside. Dad’s inside. I know something’s wrong, and I’m just standing there. And every time somebody gives me a key, that dream gets quieter for a while.”

I looked at the red key between us.

“This one isn’t yours to carry.”

Liam stared at it for a moment.

Then he pushed it across the counter toward me.

“You’re right.”

That afternoon, we finished the little route Liam had planned.

The yellow key went to the person it had actually been made for.

Mrs. Palmer’s blue key went to the retired nurse six houses away.

Frank insisted Liam keep the green one.

“I asked him to,” Frank told me firmly.

That mattered.

Later, we stopped across from Liam’s father’s old apartment building.

He sat staring at the entrance.

I didn’t tell him it wasn’t his fault.

He already knew that.

Knowing wasn’t the problem.

Eventually Liam started the SUV, then switched it off again.

“Can you drive?”

I looked at him.

“Yeah.”

He handed me the keys.

When we finally got home, I parked and carried two grocery bags toward the porch.

Liam reached automatically into his pocket.

Then the other one.

“Meryl.”

“Hmm?”

“The house key.”

I held it up.

He stepped toward me, then stopped.

For once, he wasn’t the person with the backup.

He wasn’t the one opening the door.

A smile slowly appeared on his face.

“You got it.”

So I unlocked our front door.

Our dog came charging toward us, nearly knocking a grocery bag from Liam’s hands.

He laughed and followed me inside.

In his pocket was one spare key.

Frank’s green one.

A key somebody had actually asked him to carry.