“Darlene.”
Her expression shifts, sharpening. “Where is he?”
I swallow hard. “Gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I told him to leave.”
She closes her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to say I overreacted.”
“No.” Her voice softens, which nearly undoes me again. “I was about to ask if you’re alone.”
The kindness breaks the last little piece of composure I had left.
I press my hand to my mouth, tears spilling hot and fast.
Darlene curses softly. “I’m coming up.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want anyone.”
“I am not anyone. I’m the old woman who has seen you ugly cry into biscuit dough.”
Despite everything, a broken laugh comes out. “That was one time.”
“It was three.”
“Traitor.”
“Open the door.”
She disconnects before I can argue.
A few minutes later, she knocks once and lets herself in with the spare key she pretends not to have. She brings tea, a blanket, and no softness in her posture, which means her heart is involved and she hates it.
The apartment feels colder as soon as she enters, not because she brings cold, but because she confirms Kauss is gone.
She looks at the trash. “Dinner died?”
“Yes.”
“Dramatic.”
“It deserved better.”
“So did you.”
That makes me cry again.
