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“Wait, Lil,” he said. “One quick thing.” She turned around and pushed her hair behind her ear so she could see him clearly, aglow against the setting sun over the lake. “Is the Gavin you’re fucking Sarah Kelly’s brother?”
“Your deal is done; there is no undoing it,” I said as I stood up to leave. “But I think it’s important for you to know something.” “Okay,” Evan responded, wary. “You asked the wrong question,” I said, slipping my tablet back into its case. “What you should’ve asked was which son.”
“Oh,” Gavin said, his grip still tight on her arm. “I forgot. I owe you a big thank-you.” She barely registered his words; she was too busy examining the letter, the handwriting she hadn’t seen in years. The story it told. Philip’s story. “It has been so kind of you both to host my daughter all summer.”
“I just—I want you to know that I really do love you.” “That’s good.” Ruth pulled her fingers through Mickey’s wet hair, leaving touches like insects on her forehead and shoulders. Each blink felt longer than the last. She couldn’t understand how anyone could function normally under this thick of a sweater. “I’m sorry,” Ruth said. “I’m so sorry.” And that time, when Mickey’s eyes closed, they stayed that way.
