We hugged outside, and for a few seconds I rested my cheek against his coat.

When he got into his car, the phone lit almost at once.

He typed before starting the engine.

A message was not proof that his promise had been false.

It was a message.

But I had noticed the same movement after questions he refused to answer, and now I could not stop noticing it.

That evening, he built a block bridge with the boys.

“Where’s the river?” he asked.