But it was a different story than the one I had been living inside for months.
“I need to ask you something,” I said.
“Okay.”
“If none of this had come out — if Claire hadn’t found that letter — were you ever going to tell me?”
Nathan was quiet for a long moment.
“I told myself I was waiting for the right time.” He looked down at his hands.
“But I think I was afraid that if I told you what my mother had done, you’d leave anyway.
And I’d rather lose you to a misunderstanding than lose you because my family wasn’t worth staying for.”
It was the most honest thing he had said to me in months.
Maybe in years.
I didn’t say anything.
I just sat with it.
Down the hall, Diane stood up from the bench.
She said something to Claire.
Claire nodded once.
Then Diane walked toward us.
She stopped a few feet away.
Nathan started to stand.
She held up one hand — a small gesture, but he sat back down.
“I’m not here to ask for anything,” she said.
She was looking at me, not at him.
“I want to say something, and then I’ll go.”
