did not look for her.
“Claire, please—” Ethan started, when I got out of the car.
“Not here,” I said. “Not in the driveway.”
“You humiliated my mother.”
I looked at him for a moment. I had spent five years being careful about how I said difficult things to him, softening edges, choosing timing, framing things as gently as possible to avoid his shutting continue reading …
