“What?”
“Right now.
In front of me.
You need to call Daniela and tell her Toby will not be coming Saturday.
Or any other day.”
Ryan’s hand went to his phone.
He picked it up slowly.
Then he stopped.
“She’s going to want to talk,” he said.
“She’s gotten attached to him.”
He made the call at the kitchen table with the water still running over on the stove.
I turned the burner off.
Then I sat down across from him and waited.
It rang four times.
Then her voice came through the speaker — warm, unhurried, like someone who had no reason to be afraid.
“Hey, you.
Everything okay?”
Ryan looked at me.
I nodded once.
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
“Toby won’t be coming Saturday.”
A short silence.
“Oh.
Is he sick?”
“No.
He’s fine.” Ryan’s hand was flat on the table.
“Lauren found out.
About everything.”
The silence this time was longer.
“She’s there right now?” Daniela asked.
“Yes.”
“Is she listening to this?”
“Yes,” I said.
Another pause.
When Daniela spoke again, her voice had changed — not hostile, but careful.
Measured.
“Lauren,” she said.
“I’m sorry.
I know that doesn’t mean much right now.”
