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“Don’t what me.”
“Blair.”
“That’s makeup.”
He looked at the stain and realization crossed his face. “Oh.”
My blood pressure probably hit numbers that required medication.
“Oh?”
“Ravenna.”
I stepped back.
He sighed. “I stopped by this morning.”
“Why?”
“She had therapy.”
“And you needed to be there?”
“No.”
He reached for his phone. “She asked if I could stop by afterward.”
I folded my arms. “Of course she did.”
“Blair.”
“What?”
“You asked so I’m telling you.”
“You’re standing in my kitchen with your wife’s foundation on your fucking shirt.”
“Because she hugged me.”
I laughed. “Wonderful.”
“She just thanked me.”
“For what?”
“For not making the process mentally exhausting for her. She has time to tackle things one at a time.”
“How sweet.”
Caleb stared at me then unlocked his phone. “Here.”
He held it out, but I didn’t take it.
“What?”
“Read it.”
My eyes dropped to a message from Ravenna. My heart started beating harder. He handed me the phone, and I read it three times. Ravenna had sent him a message thanking him for checking on her. She said therapy had been helping and she finally felt like she was beginning to recognize herself again. She talked about having a good session, feeling stronger, and being proud that she’d made it through the week without what she called a bad day.
