Simone's fingers found the edge of the dresser. The camel cardigan's sleeve dragged softly against the wood. "His name is Isaiah Grant."
Aaron waited.
"He's—" Simone stopped. Started. "I added him to the emergency pickup list last Tuesday. The school requires two contacts beyond parents. Your sister is in Atlanta. My mother is in Columbia and doesn't drive at night anymore. I put Isaiah down. Thursday I had a late client call that ran. I asked him to get Lily. He did. He brought her home. I was here by five-thirty. Nothing happened that you need to invent into something worse than it is."
Aaron laughed once. It was not laughter. "You authorized a man I have never met to take our seven-year-old out of school, and you stand in our bedroom telling me what I do not need to invent."
"Aaron—"
"How does Lily know him well enough to say he already picked her up like it's weather?"
Simone's almond eyes shone, not yet with tears, with the bright pressure before them. "Because he has been around. Not constantly. Not in this house when you're here. But around. For months."
The word months entered the room and sat down.