Maeve hung her head.
Her lies had caught up to her. What remained was the harder question: whether she’d damaged something between us that couldn’t be reorganized as easily as the project.
Her lies had caught up to her.
Eventually they left, and the warehouse became painfully quiet.
Maeve started crying.
“I messed everything up, didn’t I? I quit without telling you. I spent our money without asking. And I hid everything because I didn’t want you to have a vote.”
I didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry.”
The warehouse became painfully quiet.
I stared at the floor.
She continued, “I’m not going to ask you to forgive me tonight.”
“Good.”
She nodded like she deserved that.
Then she asked, “What can we fix?”
“I messed everything up, didn’t I?
We went through the folders.
The warehouse deposit and renovation money were gone; a painful amount of our savings wasn’t coming back.
