“Hey,” he says, arms still crossed forbiddingly. Maybe he can somehow sense I’ve seen his brother and sister. Maybe he’s got a secret love of antiquing and he saw the whole thing. “Hi,” I say, desperate to shake off this unnecessary guilt. “You’re home early.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I realize how weird it sounds. Home? He doesn’t live here. Early? I don’t know his regular schedule. I might as well be the one-dimensional wife in a bad TV pilot.”
