“I know.”
Noah said, “Sorry doesn’t erase it.”
Tyler nodded.
“I know.”
Something shifted then.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But truth had entered the room, and truth changes the air.
I called Cassandra. She answered on the first ring, frantic.
“Julia? Is Tyler there?”
“Yes. He’s safe. He rode his bike here.”
“Oh my God.”
“Come get him.”
“I’m coming.”
Before she hung up, her voice dropped.
“Julia?”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t know about the mortgage.”
I looked at Tyler, who stood in my kitchen staring at the floor.
“That seems to be going around.”
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said.
I waited.
“I should have said something,” she added.
“Yes,” I said. “You should have.”
When Cassandra arrived, she did not come to the door with Brent. She came alone, hair unbrushed, coat thrown over pajamas, face pale with worry. She hugged Tyler too hard, then released him and turned to my children.
