That look — a mother threatening her exhausted child into silence with her eyes, in front of me — was the thing that removed the last shred of anything I still felt for the woman standing in my kitchen.

“Don’t look at her,” I said quietly.

“Don’t you look at her.

Look at me.”

Wendy recovered, and reached for scorn.

“Caleb, honestly, don’t be ridiculous.

I stopped at a friend’s on the way home to drop something off, that’s all.

And Lily is being dramatic.