“Mom isn’t actually here.” “Oh.” He flushes bright enough for her to spot in the weak yellow of her lamp. “Should I … go to the front door?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Winnie grabs his white V-neck by the collar and hauls him forcefully into her room. Her bed bounces; the box springs groan; water drips off Jay onto her bedspread; and Winnie stoutly avoids considering the fact that she and Jay are on her bed together.
