“It was easier for her.” “I think she’s glad her kids are older.” “Maybe.” Sam slips on top of him. “I’m not sure.” “Why wouldn’t she be?” Sam doesn’t answer; it’s too sweet. Only later, words return. “Because she is alone.” She wants to tell him about her mom and Jack, and even Adam. She wants to tell about the times that she was little, and all about her dad. For a second, she feels the wanting like that pressure behind your eyes when you’re afraid you might burst into tears—but she does not tell him, and she does not cry.
