Dad sees. He blinks a lot, like he’s reassessing what he’s saying to Maximoff’s husband. “I’m not trying to blame you, Farrow. I should’ve asked more questions. I should’ve realized sooner. I’m not saying you’re at fault—” “You’re saying it would’ve made a difference,” Farrow says through clenched teeth. “I don’t advertise my relationships like they’re commercials on a fucking TV screen for other people to consume. They just exist. They are.” “I guess I missed it,” my dad says, bitterness to his words. “Maybe I didn’t even want to see it. Maybe I was afraid of what it’d mean. You and him. He’d
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