Tobin picked up his charger.
“I love Dad. I’m not saying he’s a terrible person. But I hate watching you pretend things don’t hurt.”
After he left, I opened my closet.
The blue dress was still hanging at the back.
I’d worn it once.
I’d forgotten the insult.
My son hadn’t.
If Tobin had noticed all this, what had Graham noticed?
I called my older son.
“Graham, tell me what’s going on.”
“We’re going to talk to Dad tonight.”
“About breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t explain why you need a whole evening.”
He hesitated.
“Mom, something happened with my girlfriend last week.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“We argued. She told me I’d hurt her feelings, and I said she was being too sensitive.”
I closed my eyes.
“I sounded exactly like Dad.”
“Graham—”
“I apologized to her. But afterward, I kept thinking about how many times I’ve heard Dad say that to you.”
