"How am I making it sound?"
"Like I was—like it was some kind of scheme."
"Then tell me what it was like. Visit two."
He let out a long breath. "About a week and a half later. The hospice called her and said her dad had maybe a few weeks. She'd just come from there and she was a wreck. She texted me from the parking lot of the Jewel. She said she couldn't go back to that empty house. She asked if she could just come sit somewhere that had people in it. And I—Ren, she was falling apart. I've known her since I was six. I've known her dad my whole life. I couldn't just say no."
"You could have called me."
"You were at work."
"I have a phone. I have breaks. I have a husband who knows how to reach me."
"I know. I know." He was staring at his hands. "She came over. Ivy was asleep. Lauren sat on the couch right there and just cried. For like an hour. And I sat with her. And I held her. And that was all. I swear to God, Renée, that was all that happened that night. I held her while she cried about her father."
Renée looked at the place on the couch where he was pointing. It was the place where she was sitting now. She did not move. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her move.
"Ivy heard her crying," she said. "Through the floor. She came to the top of the stairs and saw you holding her."
Matt put his face in his hands.