Ben nodded. “Yes.”
I liked Tom immediately.
The flood ruined the desk.
The carpet had to be replaced.
Most of the photographs survived.
The flamingo perfume did not.
I thought we’d throw away the bottle.
Instead, Lily asked for it.
She cleaned it out.
Months later, she gave Ben another one.
Same ridiculous pink flamingo.
Empty.
Inside was a rolled-up note. Ben opened it at our kitchen table. No more secrets in drawers.
I laughed so hard I cried. Then Ben cried too.
We still have the bottle. It’s not locked away. It sits on a shelf in our living room.
People ask about it sometimes.
Ben usually says, “Long story.”
He’s right.
The strange part is that if the pipe hadn’t burst, I might not have learned about Lily for years.
Maybe Ben would eventually have told me.
Maybe not.
I used to think the flood exposed his secret.
