she had waited at the kitchen table with two cups of coffee. I had taken a call in the driveway and left without coming back inside. I remembered promising we would talk the following evening. I could not remember whether we ever had. Sitting beside her now, I understood why she was watching my hands instead of my face.
“I tried to reach you after I found out,” she said. “I sent an email and left messages. You said anything important should go through the paperwork. I was exhausted, and eventually I stopped trying.” She paused. “I should have found another way to tell you. I know that. But I need you to understand how we got here.”
I wanted to ask why Owen had not said something sooner. I wanted to explain that I had changed my email address. Both questions would have taken us away from the person
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