Ethan closed his eyes.
“Mom.”
June looked at him.
“Please stop saying my name like I’m the one making this difficult.”
That silenced him.
Behind them, someone started the music again.
Too quickly.
Too loudly.
People returned to conversations because strangers’ discomfort had an expiration point.
June was grateful.
She did not want an audience anymore.
She reached for her coat.
Ethan followed her toward the foyer.
“Mom, wait.”
She continued walking.
“Please.”
June stopped.
He lowered his voice.
“Can we talk outside?”
Claire remained near the gift table.
June nodded.
The December air hit hard when they stepped beyond the venue doors.
Ottawa had received fresh snow that afternoon.
Cars along the curb wore white caps.
June pulled on her gloves.
Ethan stood beside her in shirtsleeves.
“You’ll freeze.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I said I’m fine.”
June looked at him.
The words were ordinary.
But the tone stopped her.
He rarely spoke sharply to her.
At least he hadn’t until recently.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m leaving?”
“Because you did this in front of everyone.”
June stared at him.
