“Nothing.”
“Noah.”
“I’m reading.”
His tone ended the question.
I let him finish.
He folded the paper carefully.
“How do I sound?”
“Like you.”
“Slow?”
“No.”
“Confused?”
“No.”
“Did Elliot make me look pathetic?”
“Not once.”
He studied my face.
“You have to say that.”
“I do not.”
I turned his hand over.
“You sound thoughtful. Angry. Hopeful. You sound like someone rebuilding a life without pretending the damage is beautiful.”
His eye shone.
“Good.”
He picked up the paper.
“I want to keep it.”
“All right.”
“Not here.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes.”
He stood.
“Work?”
“For a while.”
