“To read page three under a lamp,” I said.

I walked into the kitchen nook, where the morning sun came in through the high glass windows facing the garden.

I laid the three pages flat on the oak table and smoothed the paper with the side of my hand.

Brandon came into the kitchen two minutes later, holding two blue ceramic mugs of black coffee.

“Look, Avery,” he said, setting one mug down near my right elbow.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot at dinner the other night.”