Chapter 6: Two Voices at Bedtime

Keith drove us home in silence, and I sat with my hands under my thighs so he wouldn't see them shake.

He parked in the driveway and turned off the engine.

Neither of us moved.

"That was a good glass of wine," he said.

I looked at him.

"It was a seventeen-dollar glass of wine, and you wasted it on his shoes."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." A muscle moved in his jaw, and I realized he was trying not to smile. "My mother nearly stood up and clapped."

I laughed, and it broke into something wetter, and I put my hand over my mouth.

He didn't reach for me.

He took a clean handkerchief out of his jacket and held it out, and this time his fingers brushed mine on purpose.

"What did he say to you?" he asked. "At the coat rack."

"He offered me a house."

"I saw him offer."

"He said he could count."

Keith didn't answer.

He looked through the windshield at the dark porch light, and the handkerchief stayed in my hand, still warm from his pocket.

"Thank you for telling me," he said at last.

Inside, the teenager from next door was asleep on the couch with a cartoon playing.

Keith paid her and walked her to her own front door.

I went upstairs to check on the twins.

June had kicked off her blanket.

Milo was curled sideways with his dinosaur under his chin.

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