She placed it across the back seat.
“What’s that?”
I asked.
“A little surprise.”
She got behind the wheel.
“Come with me.
You need to see this.”
I was too exhausted to ask more questions.
We drove to the apartment.
Margaret parked, helped me out, and carried the package upstairs herself.
When we reached our door, I expected shouting.
I expected Ryan to accuse me of exaggerating.
I expected him to tell his mother that I was being dramatic.
Instead, he opened the door with a smile.
“Mom?”
He glanced at me, then at the package.
“What are you doing here?”
Margaret stepped inside.
“I thought I’d pay my son a visit.”
Ryan looked uncomfortable.
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I noticed.”
He forced a laugh.
“Is something wrong?”
Margaret placed the package on the living room floor.
“That depends on you.”
Ryan looked at me.
“Claire, what’s going on?”
