Ellie stood and pushed him into the hallway.
“We’re talking.”
“I’m aware.”
“Privately.”
“You left the door unlocked.”
“That is not a legal defense.”
She closed it.
When she sat down again, I said, “Your father is terrifying.”
“He likes you.”
“That was liking me?”
“He didn’t ask about debt.”
“I feel privileged.”
A faint smile touched her mouth.
The interruption had broken the heaviness without removing it.
“There’s something you should know about me,” Ellie said.
I waited.
“My sister was twenty-six when she died.”
“Molly.”
“Yes. A brain aneurysm. No warning.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She called me the night before. I was working. I told her I’d call tomorrow.”
The last word held everything else.
“I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
She nodded.
“After that, I stopped trusting tomorrow.”
I thought about every time I had postponed telling her.
After dinner.
In the morning.
One more day.
“That’s why what I did hurt differently,” I said.
