Page 166 of Suite 7

“I walked in on them. Sunday. At his place.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her voice shifts, the softness she’s had since we were small, the one that means she’s putting everything else down. “That must have been awful.”

“It was.”

“Are you talking to them?”

“No, but Kane wants to meet Friday. I agreed.”

A pause. Then, carefully: “How do you feel about that?”

“Terrified. Angry. I don’t know what to say to him.”

“You don’t have to know before you get there.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Do you want to lose them? Either of them?”

The question lands clean and simple.

“No,” I admit.

“Then meet him on Friday. Be angry, you’re entitled to be angry, and don’t let anyone rush you past that.” A pause. “But I know they love you. Both of them. Whatever mistakes they made, that’s still true.”

“Everyone keeps telling me to forgive them.”

“I’m not telling you to forgive them. I’m telling you to talk to Kane on Friday.” Her voice is firm. “Forgiveness is its own thing. That comes later, if it comes. Right now you have to decide if you’re willing to be in the same room as your brother.”

“Okay,” I say.

“And Sloane?” She hesitates. “For what it’s worth, I always thought those two were circling each other. Even at Christmas last year.”

I go completely still. “What?”

“The way they argued. The way neither of them could ever just let what the other one said or did go.”

“Mom.”

“I’m saying. I’m not surprised. I’m disappointed they handled it the way they did. But I’m not surprised.”

Something between a laugh and a scream sits in my chest.

“I love you,” she says. “Call me Saturday. Tell me how it went.”

“I will.”

After we hang up, I sit at my kitchen table for a long time.

I always thought those two were circling each other.

My mother saw it.

I didn’t.

I was the only one who didn’t know.

The shame burns.