He looked at me.
“I don’t blame you.”
“For what?”
“Five years is a respectable effort.”
I felt my anger rise.
He smiled.
“Marrying a seventy-two-year-old man when you were thirty-five.
I assume everyone expected you to last eighteen months.”
Thomas’s voice hardened.
“That is enough.”
Adrian shrugged.
“Am I wrong?”
I walked toward him.
“You’re standing in a house where I washed your uncle’s body when he was too weak to stand.”
His smile faded slightly.
