“You know that isn’t what I think.”
“I do.”
“Then don’t say it like that.”
She turned toward me.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m ashamed of you.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Claire searched my face.
“Then what are you afraid of?”
I looked toward the dark window.
Our reflection moved with the car.
Me in diamonds.
Claire in silver.
Sitting close enough to touch, carefully not touching.
“It’s complicated,” I said.
She laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“Everything becomes complicated when you don’t want to answer.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“No,” she said. “It isn’t.”
We passed beneath a streetlight.
Her face appeared briefly beside mine in the glass.
“I thought this part would get easier.”
“It will.”
“When?”
“After the tour.”
Claire nodded.
“The tour ends in November.”
