Diane looked at her son like she’d never seen him before.
Then she reached into her purse, took out the yellow tape measure, and set it down on my kitchen counter. Right next to the paper.
She didn’t say anything.
She walked out to her white SUV, with one tire still up on my curb, and she drove away.
Karen left a few minutes later. She hugged me in the hall. I let her. I didn’t hug her back.
Then it was just me and Greg in the kitchen. And the paper. And the tape measure.
He picked up the tape measure and turned it over in his hands.
“I’m going to call her,” he said. “Later. When she’s calmed down.”
“Okay.”
“Lauren.” He set it down. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are.”
“Are you—” He couldn’t finish. “Are we—”
“I don’t know yet,” I said. And that was the truth.
