Page 47 of Don't Tell

"No. I'll handle it." His gaze goes to the ceiling, then drifts past the window to the city below. "Can I count on you to be there?"

"I'll be there."

He nods. He doesn't say anything for a while. The office is quiet. Outside the window, the city goes about its business, indifferent. Beau has his eyes on the middle distance, somewhere past my left shoulder, and there's something in his face I don't have a name for.

"Are you happy?" he asks.

I look at him.

"I mean it." He still isn't looking at me directly. He turns to me. "Do you get lonely?"

His eyes are tired. I look at my brother, and I'm aware, for a moment, of the distance between where I'm sitting and where he is, and I don't know what to say that would cross it.

"Never mind." He shakes his head before I can answer. "I’m going to Jonathan’s funeral." He says it plainly, no charge in it. "You should come."

"I’ve made up my mind about that."

"I know." He moves toward the door. "Just…think about it." He pauses in the doorway. "He was still your father."

He leaves.

I sit with it for a moment, letting the weight settle. My phone lights up before I can take another breath.

I pick it up.

Suzanne

What are you doing?

Cade

Working. You?

Suzanne

Polishing a lamp that's already gleaming.

Cade

For how long?

Suzanne

Until I stop thinking about you.

I put the phone face down. I pick it up and look at the message. I put it down again without answering. There's a pull in my chest, warm and ridiculous. I get back to work.

My mother calls soon enough. She starts with her usual tactic — a friendly greeting, buttering me up for what she’s about to say.

"Henry's in the city next week," she says. "We thought we could all go for dinner."

"Is this about the funeral?"

A pause. "We'd like to see you."

"I'm not going, Mom. I've told you."

She's quiet. "I heard you," she says. She ends the call.