Diane paused. Then she let go.
Jake reached over and pulled the strap out of my hand. He set the suitcase next to his feet. And he said it to Diane, not to me: “Mom, go home. We’ll talk tonight.”
He’d finally said something. But he was still just managing the two women. Still not choosing.
Diane didn’t leave. She bent down, slid the strap out of Jake’s hand, and carried the suitcase outside. She walked it all the way down the driveway, opened the rear door of my car, and put it in. Smooth. Practiced.
She came back still smiling. “Fine, son. Let her go. Mom’s here.”
Then she walked up to me, close, and dropped her voice like we were girlfriends sharing a secret.
“See that? He’s keeping me. Not you.”
All the blood went to my head. I opened the driver’s door and got in.
“Rachel!” Jake slammed his palm on the door. “Get out.”
