Ryan had built his confidence on those assumptions.
He saw plain clothes and a duffel bag and decided I was insignificant.
He knew I worked near a military installation, but he apparently believed that “drive back to base” was an insult that would put me in my place.
Jessica knew more than he did, though not everything.
She knew the house was mine.
She knew I had paid for it.
She knew I had seventy-two hours before I had to return to duty.
And she had still chosen the reunion over the sister who had helped her for years.
Back at the lake house, Ryan was probably congratulating himself.
He was probably telling his relatives that I had shown up uninvited and tried to spoil their weekend. He was probably describing my decision to leave as proof that he had been right all along.
Jessica was probably still pretending the situation was nothing more than an awkward family disagreement.
