I pushed myself upright.
Noah frowned.
“You were wearing that rust-colored jacket.”
My heart kicked hard.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me everything.”
He looked irritated.
“Leah rented a beach house.”
I stopped breathing.
“She tried to make breakfast in that terrible oven,” he continued. “The fire alarm wouldn’t stop. Emma was little. Clara had cereal in her hair.”
His eye widened.
“Noah.”
He looked at me.
“Oh.”
Recognition spread across his face.
“This happened.”
“Yes.”
The words came out rough.
“Three years ago. Leah’s birthday weekend.”
Noah stared at the bedroom wall, but he was seeing somewhere else.
“You took the alarm off the ceiling.”
“It was defective.”
“You hit it with a towel.”
“I was under pressure.”
“Marlowe stole half a tray of cinnamon rolls.”
“Yes.”
“You wore the brown jacket because I said the green one made you look like a forest ranger.”
I laughed.
Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them.
