“Then tell me again.”
The request was selfish.
I made it anyway.
Claire looked toward the living room.
“This apartment is the only place I exist in your life.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Where else?”
“My band knows you.”
“They think I’m a friend from home.”
“Rachel knows.”
“Rachel knows where every person in your life is at all times.”
“My mother knows.”
“Your mother believes we share hotel rooms because you don’t sleep well alone.”
“That is not what she believes.”
“Have you ever corrected her?”
I had not.
Claire nodded once.
“Your publicist calls me wardrobe if someone sees us backstage.”
“I told Sophie to stop.”
“After the third time.”
“She was trying to protect us.”
“No. She was trying to protect Savannah.”
“And you.”
“I never asked for this much protection.”
The word sat between us.
Protection.
It sounded better than hiding.
More loving.
More adult.
We did not owe strangers access to our lives.
