“Would you like to come in? He’s awake. He’d—”
“Does he know what this looks like?” Marissa asked. “Because I do. My little brother is dying, and a stranger marries him ten minutes before the end. I work thirty-eight hours a week and raise two kids alone, and I’m the one who gets told ‘do not contact’?”
Before I could answer, Julian’s voice came from behind me.
“Mari.”
He was standing in the hallway, gripping the wall. I hadn’t seen him on his feet in two days.
Marissa’s whole face changed. For one second, she didn’t look angry. She looked like a little girl.
“You look terrible, Jules,” she said.
“I feel worse.” He almost smiled. “Please don’t blame her. She doesn’t know anything. That’s my fault.”
“Know what?” I asked.
Neither of them looked at me.
Marissa stayed for twenty minutes. I gave them the living room and sat on the porch swing, listening to it squeak. When she left, her eyes were red. She walked past me without a word, then stopped at the bottom of the steps.
