“I told him I’d swing by.”
By 7:30 p.m., the porch light was clicking on behind Richard, and the leather tote was tucked under his arm as if it were full of state secrets. Every single Sunday. Like clockwork. Like a man on a leash, we couldn’t see.
***
After the dishes, I trapped Mom by the sink.
“Mom, can I ask you something without you getting mad?”
“That’s usually a great start, Avery.”
I trapped Mom by the sink.
“Six months you’ve been dating this man. Have you been inside his house? Even once? Have you seen his kitchen? His couch? His mailbox?”
She turned the faucet on harder than the dishes required.
“He’s private.”
“He’s evasive.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because Chloe says twice now she’s watched him turn south after dinner, and he supposedly lives 20 minutes north.”
Mom’s shoulders went tight. She set the plate down with a small, sharp clink.
