I was a coward tonight. I am sorry. I will not ask you to forgive me now. I just need you to know Noah was right.
I did not answer.
The next morning, there were seventeen messages and six missed calls. One was from my mother. Her voicemail began with, “I cannot believe you walked out of your brother’s wedding,” so I deleted it before she finished.
Vanessa sent nothing.
Ethan called at noon.
I watched his name appear until the call ended. Then it rang again.
On the third attempt, I answered.
“Is Noah okay?” he asked.
“He’s building a fort out of couch cushions.”
I heard him exhale.
“Can I come over?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
There was a pause.
“Claire, the reception ended early.”
I closed my eyes. “That isn’t my problem.”
“I know. I wasn’t saying it was. I just… after you left, people started leaving. Vanessa tried to keep things going. Mom told everyone you had always been sensitive. That made it worse.”
“Ethan.”
“Right. Sorry.”
He sounded older than he had twenty-four hours earlier.
“I keep thinking about Dad,” he said. “About how you were nineteen and suddenly handling everything. You made sure I got to school. You helped me buy that terrible first car. You worked extra shifts when I couldn’t cover insurance. And last night I sat there and laughed because I wanted Vanessa’s friends to think I was relaxed.”
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“Do not turn what I did for you into a reason I have to forgive you.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“I’m telling you because I finally understand that I have spent years treating your loyalty like a permanent resource. Like something I could withdraw from without ever putting anything back.”
That sentence silenced me.
It was not enough. But it was the first thing he had said that sounded like he understood the actual injury.
“What did Vanessa say?” I asked.
He hesitated.
