Ethan followed me outside.
“Dad.”
I stopped.
He looked hurt.
“You were planning this the whole time?”
“Not the whole time.”
“When?”
“After the pie.”
He closed his eyes.
“God.”
“I know.”
He looked toward his house.
Then toward mine.
“You’re mad.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I laughed softly.
“Would you have listened?”
He looked down.
That was answer enough.
I continued.
“I didn’t need Vanessa to like me.”
“I didn’t need free housing.”
“I needed to know whether my son would say something when his wife called me a lazy freeloader.”
His face changed.
“I should have.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“You could have said no.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
He meant it.
Maybe not enough yet.
But he meant it.
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
Then I crossed the street.
No dramatic car.
No secret limousine.
