my books beneath our old bed and offered to return it through counsel; I told him to donate it. The normality felt almost surreal. When we stood to leave, he turned toward me.
“I am sorry, Claire.”
I no longer needed to make him understand the limits of an apology.
“I know.”
He nodded, then added:
“For what it’s worth, the money isn’t what shocked me.”
“It was realizing you could have walked away any time.”
I recognized the last misunderstanding between us.
“No, Aaron.”
“I couldn’t have.”
“What do
