“We don’t have room for an entire workshop,” I said.
His expression fell.
“Of course we don’t, Mom.”
“Nathan, I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t get to show up now and pretend you were part of this.”
His words hurt because they were true.
I wanted to explain how difficult the last three years had been. Instead, I asked, “What matters most to you? We can bring some things home.”
“I can’t choose.”
“Then we won’t decide today.”
That evening, Denise called. Cole was upset because Nathan had convinced him to keep lying.
“I shouldn’t have put him in that position,” Nathan admitted later.
“You owe him an apology,” I told him. “You frightened us, and you made Cole lie too.”
Then I sat beside him.
“There’s something I owe you an apology for, too. After Dad died, I thought keeping our lives normal would help us both.”
