“For knowing you’d be unhappy and deciding that was easier than telling Brooke we needed another plan.”
I swallowed.
“I have been unhappy before, Julian.”
“I know.”
That answer was harder to hear than an excuse.
He sat with me while the tea went cold. I did not tell him everything was fine. After a while, he opened his phone and began searching for somewhere to live.
By afternoon, he had found a furnished rental available on the twenty-sixth. It cost more than he wanted, but less than the hotels he had complained about.
He showed me the reservation and paid the deposit himself.
Brooke came downstairs while he was reading the confirmation. She glanced at the screen and asked whether it had two bedrooms.
“Yes.”
“A washer?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
There was no audience for her anger now, no son asking his mother to surrender, no uncertainty about whether I meant what I said.
She began gathering the bags from the hallway.
I watched her carry her cream coat past Richard’s desk and hang it on the hook by the door.
That evening, Lily asked if we were still having Christmas.
“Of course,” I told her.
“Everybody’s whispering.”
I put down the ribbon in my hands.
“The grown-ups had a disagreement about plans. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Are we moving again?”
“After Christmas, Daddy and Mommy found a place for you while your new house gets ready.”
She considered that.
“Can my star stay here?”
“If you want it to.”
She placed it at the top of the presents, carefully adjusting one bent point. Then she ran to show Mason where his stocking hung.
Christmas morning was quieter than the one I had imagined.
Julian made breakfast. Brooke washed the dishes without announcing that she was doing me a favor. There were awkward stretches, but there was also Mason laughing at the sound a new toy made, and Lily sitting against my knee while I helped untie a ribbon.
We took no photograph pretending to be perfectly happy.
We ate cinnamon rolls while they were still warm.
On the twenty-sixth, Julian loaded the SUV.
This time, he carried the boxes out in the order that made sense, not the order Brooke called from the doorway. She checked the guest-room drawers and brought me a folded stack of towels.
“These are clean,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She lingered beside the kitchen table.
For a second I thought she might apologize. Instead, she looked toward the front door.
“We’ll let you know when we’re settled.”
“All right.”
I did not supply the words she could not bring herself to say.
