“Oh my God.”
“He lied to me, Jen. Every day. He looked me in the eye and lied to me.”
“Who did? Greg or Sam?”
I opened my mouth and found I didn’t have an answer.
“Laura,” Jen said carefully, “how did Greg end up working at that rink? Of all the places?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he go looking for Sam?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t let him say anything.”
Jen was quiet for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, and then I put my head down on the steering wheel and cried so hard I couldn’t breathe.
When I went inside, the kitchen was dark. There was a plate in the microwave. I opened it. Two grilled cheese sandwiches, cut diagonally, the way I used to cut them for him when he was little. There was a note on a sticky pad stuck to the microwave door.
