“Near it.”
His hand froze.
“Adele got into your car.”
His shoulders relaxed so noticeably that I almost laughed.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Her car broke down.”
“And?”
“I’m giving her rides temporarily.”
I adjusted my crutches.
“You told me you couldn’t take your daughters to school because it would make you late.”
“It would.”
“But Adele doesn’t?”
“Her apartment is closer to work.”
“It’s nowhere near our house.”
“It isn’t that bad.”
I stared at him.
My mother had driven across the city.
Linda had rearranged meetings.
I had carried cereal bowls while balancing on one leg because standing at the counter hurt.
And Harold was explaining that driving to Adele’s apartment wasn’t that bad.
“You’d rather pick up Adele than take your daughters to school.”
“Don’t make this weird.”
“I didn’t.”
“Her car is being repaired.”
“So?”
