“That too.”
The honesty surprised me. Evelyn took a breath.
“I spent years believing I knew what you would do in every situation. Then you registered for a marathon and started dating someone like Dani.”
“Someone like Dani?”
“Spontaneous. Public. Physical. The opposite of what you usually choose.”
“You mean the opposite of you.”
Evelyn looked away, and I understood. This was not concern. Not entirely. It was the discomfort of discovering that the person you had defined continued changing after you left.
“I already know Dani has unfinished history with the marathon,” I said. “I also know she is qualified to coach beginners and that she has been honest about having no finish.”
Mostly honest. The qualification rose in my mind and stayed there. I did not give it to Evelyn.
“If you have specific information that affects my safety or her professional conduct, say it,” I continued. “Otherwise, stop investigating her.”
Evelyn’s face became controlled.
“I don’t have anything beyond public results.”
“Then we are done.”
I stood. She looked up.
“Amy.”
“What?”
“I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
My answer exposed too much: the relationship, the lie. Dani. The party. Maybe the fact that I was leaving before she could end the conversation on her preferred terms.
“I believe you,” I said.
Her shoulders loosened by a fraction. “Does that help?”
“No.”
I picked up my notebook.
“It helps me.”
Then I walked away.
I did not call Dani. I considered it. At the bus stop, I opened our message thread. Her final message from the previous night remained on-screen.
Call me after?
I had said I would decide. I typed:
Coffee finished. Evelyn knows only the public race results.
