Or when she was too tired to care which version of me answered.
“Where are you going?”
“I rented an apartment.”
I waited for the sentence to expand.
It did not.
“A temporary apartment?”
“No.”
“Why would you rent an apartment?”
Claire looked at the boxes.
“I was hoping the visual aids would help.”
My jacket was still on. One sleeve had twisted beneath my arm when I came in, but fixing it felt like admitting I planned to stay in the conversation.
“When did you do this?”
“I signed the lease three weeks ago.”
“Three weeks?”
“Yes.”
“You rented a place three weeks ago and said nothing?”
Her eyebrows lifted.
I heard the question properly after it left my mouth.
“That sounded bad.”
“It sounded familiar.”
“I meant you should have told me.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The night of the Denver show.”
“We were in Denver for fourteen hours.”
“Yes.”
“I had press afterward.”
“You said we would talk at the hotel.”
“We got back at two.”
“And you said we would talk after breakfast.”
