Chapter 12: The Math

I didn't sleep.

At seven the garage door rose.

I was already sitting at the kitchen table with my hands around a cold cup.

Colin came in with a gray face and yesterday's shirt.

He stopped in the doorway.

"You're up."

"I've been up."

"Jean."

"I know about the list," I said.

"I know about the house in Medina, and the crib at my parents', and the key she has to this door."

"Nate told you."

"Nate told me you're afraid of her."

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down like his legs had given out.

He looked at the cup, and the window, and the clock.

He did not look at me.

"I'll end it," he said.

"You said that three years ago."

"I mean it now."

"You meant it then."

He rubbed his forehead.

"I know what it looks like."

"It looks like a man who just found out his lover's family is his wife's family," I said.

"And now he wants to be forgiven."

"I want to fix it."

"Then listen."

He went quiet.

I had practiced the next part in the dark for most of the night.

"On Christmas Eve we'll all be at my parents' table," I said.

"You, me, Simone, my mother, my father."

"Yes."

"You'll bring the original of her list."

"It's in the drawer."

"Then get it."

He pushed back from the table and went to the study.

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