“Michelle,” he said. “Close the door.”
“It stays open.”
He sighed and set his briefcase on the bed.
From inside it, he took a cashier’s check and laid it on the blanket beside my hand.
Four hundred thousand dollars.
“Take it,” he said. “Take the boy and go to Florida. Start over. Nobody has to know how this got started.”
“Dad.”
“It’s more than a girl like you will ever see in a lifetime.”
I looked at the check.
Then at him.
“I was eighteen,” I said. “You told me to sign or not come home.”
“You did what was best.”
“I’m forty-nine,” I said. “Do I finally get to say no?”
His jaw tightened.
The Rolex flashed on his wrist as he straightened.
“Then don’t come home.”
I thought about that for a long moment.
“Dad,” I said. “I haven’t had a home since November 11th, 1995.”
Beyond him, in the corridor, Anders and Bruce stood side by side with a paper cup of coffee each.
