I could have told him about the nights I kept expecting his key in the lock, the unopened birthday card I had bought him in advance, the damp dish towel I once found on his side of the bed and cried over because it smelled like his cologne.

Instead I said, “Because I finally believe you meant it when you left.”

A car door shut down the street.

A dark-blue hatchback pulled into Patty’s driveway.

Trevor climbed out, wearing the brown jacket he always wore when he traveled.

Roger’s face brightened.

“Trevor!

Thank goodness.