Eventually, a police officer gave him the address for Harbor House.
“I told myself I’d correct the story later,” Reed said. “Then we got serious, and correcting it felt worse.”
“Reed, we’ve been together six years.”
“I know.”
“We bought a house.”
“I know.”
“You know everything embarrassing about me.”
That finally made him smile a little.
“I definitely don’t know everything.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“No.”
He looked down.
“You’re right.”
That mattered.
He didn’t tell me I was overreacting.
He didn’t say the past was the past.
He didn’t remind me that we were surrounded by guests and suggest that I pretend everything was fine.
He simply stood there and admitted that he had lied.
I asked Paul if we could have five minutes.
Our five minutes became almost twenty.
Reed and I walked behind the small park building while everyone waited.
