Gulliver didn’t have his answers. He had an answer. He didn’t know why Keisha had been killed, and now he probably never would. Did he take some satisfaction in knowing her killer had also been killed? Some, he guessed. But the important thing was, he had come to as if out of a long coma. Keisha was dead, and nothing would bring her back. Knowing why she’d been killed was no longer as important to him as it had once been, he realized. Living was what was important. Loving was what was important. Perhaps more important than anything in the universe. What else mattered without love?
And so, armed with that thought, Gulliver stood in front of the door to the condo he had bought for Mia. He raised his right hand and knocked. He waited. And as he did, he looked down at the blue-velvet-covered ring case in his left hand. As he waited, he hoped Mia liked diamonds and emeralds. He hoped she remembered how to say yes.