Until The Last Day (Claire and Lorenzo) novel Chapter 20

Lorenzo’s POV 

Mom had been looking for a place to mourn Claire. 

Even though there were no ashes, she said Claire still needed rest. She went alone to a sunny slope of a cemetery and bought a plot she could afford. She told me she would place the bracelet Claire gave her on our wedding day inside the tomb and have a small tiara carved on the stone, “because our girl deserved to be crowned.” 

That afternoon she came to my apartment for one thing: the portrait. She wanted to make a copy for the headstone. 

She kept her coat on when she came in. Her face was calm in the way that scared me most. 

“Ma…” I started. 

She walked past me as if I were a coat rack. 

The place was worse than before-bottles, mail, a blanket crumpled on the floor. She didn’t tidy anything. She went straight down the hall. 

“The photo’s in the bedroom,” I said, voice thin. “I put it—” 

She opened drawers without replying. Then the closet. Then the bedside table. Nothing. 

“It’s not here,” she said flatly, and left the room. 

I followed her in silence as she crossed to the study. Dust floated in the late light. The chair still faced the desk where Claire used to sit and make lists, pay bills, write notes to herself in a neat, careful hand.

Mom pulled open a drawer beside the printer. 

We both froze. 

Inside was a thick stack of paper, squared and straight. On top lay a single sheet titled in bold, block letters: 

DEATH COUNTDOWN 

For a second I forgot how to breathe. 

Mom did not touch it. “What is that?” she asked, though she knew. 

I reached in with hands I could not steady and lifted the top page. The title shook in my grip. 

I remembered the day after I booked the tickets to Switzerland. Claire had been at this desk, writing slowly, then crossing out, then writing again. When I asked what she was doing, she smiled and said, “A list. Just a list.” 

Later that same day, we were in the kitchen and I was talking too fast about routes and hotels and wheelchair access, trying to sound excited, trying to sound like a husband. 

She looked at me a long time. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile like that,” she said softly. 

The words went into me like a needle then and a spear now. 

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