He finally looks away and moves around me, traipsing to the foyer area to slip on his shoes. I watch him. I watch him through bleary, puffy eyes, wondering if he heard my painful truth. I receive my answer seconds later. “June…” Brant hesitates with the door cracked open, glancing at me over his shoulder. He taps at his pocket, his keys jingling. He falters. And then he says, “I wish you would have lied to me.” He walks out and shuts the door, and I collapse with tears onto the stained couch.
