She admitted she’d accepted my clothes after believing Nick.
Then she’d recognized items I still needed.
She’d questioned his explanation.
But instead of stopping, she’d continued selling them.
“When you messaged me,” I said, “you already suspected I hadn’t given permission.”
She nodded.
“And you told me to talk to Nick.”
“I was hoping he’d fix it before I had to face you.”
I looked at her.
“You mean before you had to take responsibility.”
She wiped her eyes.
“Yes.”
I appreciated the honesty.
But honesty didn’t automatically repair the
