She pressed her fingers against her lips and tried to hold it back.
I had seen that expression before. She wore it at her father’s funeral, when people kept telling her to be strong because she was the only child.
I had wanted to pull her into my arms then.
I wanted to do it now.
But I had learned that loving somebody did not mean pretending they had not hurt you.
“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that,” she said.
“I believe you.”
“Then why does it feel like you’ve decided we’re terrible people?”
“I haven’t decided that. But you need to understand something. Good people can hurt the people they love. Sometimes they do it precisely because they think they know what’s best.”
Todd finally stepped away from the door.
“You’re right,” he said. “And I owe you an apology.”
He placed the legal pad on the table.
