He looked at those photographs differently than I had ever seen him look at anything.
Like someone standing inside a place he belonged.
“This is my firm,” he said.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Meridian.”
He swallowed.
“I own it.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I’ve owned it for nine years.”
“You’re an architect?”
“Yes.”
I actually sat down.
There was a chair near reception, and my legs suddenly decided they were finished supporting me.
“Nine years?”
“Yes.”
“Jamie is ten.”
“I know.”
I stared at him.
“So for almost his entire life, you’ve been…”
I couldn’t even finish.
“Why?”
Edward sat across from me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looked down.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“When you met me, I really was a construction worker.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“That’s who you fell in love with. The guy wearing boots and dusty work clothes. The man who came home exhausted and didn’t know which fork to use at your mother’s dinner table.”
