“I let him up the back stairs.”
“I lied to security for him.”
“He begged me not to tell you.”
“He said, ‘She has enough on her plate.'”
“And you listened.”
“I listened.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m not proud of it, Lauren.”
“I thought it was his story to tell.”
“It stopped being his story when it became my daughter’s college fund.”
She nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Yeah, it did.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“Go see Owen.”
“And Lauren?”
“Take the long way.”
“Give yourself time to decide what you’ll do when he answers.”
Owen lived on Maple Ridge Court.
Blue house.
Porch swing.
I’d helped Jess pick the paint color.
Jess answered the door with a baby on her shoulder.
Wyatt.
Three months old.
Born in July.
I’d planned their baby shower for free.
“Lauren!” she said.
Then she saw my face.
