“I don’t need five minutes, Ron,” I interrupted. “I just need the truth.”
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
“Carla, take our child inside.”
But Carla didn’t move right away. She just stared at me, then at her husband.
“I just need the truth.”
“Who is she?” she repeated.
“I’m the woman who buried your husband,” I said, holding her gaze. “And I’m so sorry you didn’t know the truth. I don’t know the truth either, it seems.”
Silence swallowed the hallway.
Carla’s hand tightened around her daughter. After a long moment, she turned and carried the little girl into their apartment.
Silence swallowed the hallway.
Ron stood there, staring at me like he was looking at a life he thought he had escaped.
“Inside.”
Then he followed me.
He stood near my kitchen counter like he might bolt at any second.
He followed me.
“You have five minutes,” I said. “Tell me the truth. After that, you can go back to your new life.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t know you lived here, Katie.”
“That’s clear.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I didn’t die,” he said finally.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I noticed, Ron. You look very alive.”
