"Seventeen," he said.
"Yes."
"You expect me to believe a seventeen-year-old boy sits at my table and eats my food and you've been hiding him from me for, what, since August?"
"Since July."
"Since July." He nodded slowly. "And you told June not to tell me."
That one landed. He saw it land. Claire's arms tightened across her chest and her chin dropped a quarter of an inch.
"I told her it was a surprise for you," she said quietly. "I told her Mommy's helper was a surprise and we'd tell Daddy when it was finished. I'm not proud of that. I've hated it. It's the worst part, and I knew it was the worst part when I did it."
"Then why the hell did you do it?"