He chose to look, in my eyes, like a liar, for as long as it took me to drive to that house and have the truth prove itself — trusting that once I saw my mother’s face, I would understand that the lie had been the love all along.

It was the last gift, and the bravest, and he wrapped it in the one paper that guaranteed I would open it: he made it a thing I had to go and see for myself.

Chapter 16 — Do You Hate Him

Philippa looked at me with a cautious, heartbreaking hope.

“Do you hate him?”

I closed my eyes.