Chapter 20: The Hallway

I opened the door as far as the chain allowed.

"Go home, Neil."

"I don't have one." He leaned his shoulder on the frame. "You put my bag on the porch, remember? I've been in a motel on Route 9 for eleven days."

"I'm sorry about that."

"No, you're not." His voice was thick, but he was still choosing his words. "I want to talk to my son."

"It's midnight."

"He's fifteen. He doesn't sleep."

"He's asleep."

"Jo, open the door."

"No."

"Open the damn door."

A hand came to rest on the wood above mine.

Abram had come up behind me without a sound.

He had stayed for dinner and the second half of a movie, and he had been in his socks on our couch ten minutes ago with Miles's feet on his lap.

"Neil," he said, mildly. "It's late."

Neil looked past me, and his smile came and went.

"The hotel guy."

"Yes."

"You're in my house."

"I'm in Joanna's house."

"Of course you are." He laughed. "You were always going to be. Poor widower, big empty hotel, and my wife's got a famous face."

I felt Abram go still behind me.

"Say anything else about her," Abram said, "and you'll say it from the street."

"I want my son."

"Dad."

Miles stood at the foot of the stairs in his pajama pants and a faded cello camp T-shirt.

He had his phone in one hand, and he hadn't lifted it.

"I'm not filming," he said. "I just want you to know I could."

Neil's face broke open.

"Miles. Buddy. I watched the thing you made. I want to tell you that it was brave and that I was wrong."