I honestly couldn’t believe that was his defense.
Dan looked at me.
I could tell he was very close to saying something neither of them could take back.
So I asked, “Why didn’t you take them downstairs?”
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Greg shrugged.
“I was leaving.”
“The trash room is by the elevator.”
“I know.”
“So?”
He finally said the thing I think he’d been avoiding.
“I figured you guys would handle it when you got back.”
Dan’s chair moved.
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Not violently.
But enough.
“You knew we were driving home Sunday night.”
“Yeah.”
“You knew we’d get back around eleven.”
“I guess.”
“And you looked at that kitchen and thought, ‘They’ll handle it’?”
Greg stared at him.
“It wasn’t personal.”
Dan laughed once.
“That’s almost worse.”
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I slid the paper toward Greg again.
“You don’t owe us money for the food.”
He looked at me.
“You don’t owe us for sleeping here. You were our guest.”
