He carried two coffees and a paper bag.
“I brought breakfast.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You?”
“Jennifer bought it.”
“That sounds more likely.”
He smiled.
For a moment, he looked seventeen again.
Then his smile faded.
“Mom, I really am sorry.”
I looked at him.
Gregory had Robert’s eyes.
Brown, patient, and too revealing when he was ashamed.
“We have a long drive,” I said. “We’ll talk.”
We took my car.
It felt strange leaving my own driveway with someone else sitting beside me instead of Robert.
For years, my husband had done nearly all the driving to Cape May. He claimed I braked too late. I claimed he drove like every highway contained a hidden police officer waiting specifically for him.
The familiar route unfolded under a pale September sky.
For the first half hour, Gregory talked about ordinary things.
Work.
A leak in his garage.
A teacher Cooper liked.
