He looked at Genevieve.
“Did you really see…something?” he asked her. “Do you think it’s possible…?”
Genevieve laughed softly. “Know what I believe is possible now? Anything. Everything. Now come on. Buy me that drink.”
She started toward the road. He followed.
Suddenly, he knew why he had come to the cemetery. To see a ghost. To ask a ghost to forgive him, to assure him everything was just as it was meant to be.
He groaned aloud. It wasn’t going to become a thing now, was it? Was he going to see them all the time now, know where they were, what they wanted?
Hell.
Maybe he was.
He hurried, caught Genevieve’s hand. She looked up at him and squeezed his hand as they walked into the neon light and vivid energy and sheer life of the New York City night.
