“That’s it?” she asks. I linger back into her space. “What else do you want me to say?” “I don’t know. How about ‘Thank you, Miller. I’m not surprised my son loves you already because you’re the easiest person to get along with’ or maybe you could try to get to know me. Anything really.” “I don’t want to get to know you.” What’s the point when she’s leaving soon? Her head jerks back from my words. “Did the fucked-up social skills come with fatherhood, or were you born this way?” I don’t say anything, continuing to lean my shoulder on the door leading from her room to mine. “You do realize
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