“Next time, tell him friendship includes telling him when he’s making a terrible mistake.”

Vincent nodded.

He bent to speak to Callum, and the two men shared a quiet moment I did not try to overhear.

Callum had written three letters the night before—one to me, one to Sadie, and one to the colleagues he had been afraid of disappointing.

He had sealed them but handed them to me with instructions not to open them unless he asked.

“I don’t want you living with messages instead of me,” I said.