“Are you going to tell her?”

And Daniel, who had spent his entire adult life deciding what people could handle and delivering it to them softened, said, “I don’t know yet.”

Melissa laughed, once, without any humor in it at all.

“There it is,” she said. “God. You’re all the same, you know. Patricia decided what everyone gets to know, and Scott decided, and you’re sitting in my kitchen deciding whether a nineteen-year-old can be told who took her picture.”

She shook her head. “You’re the good one. That’s not me being sarcastic. You’re genuinely the good one. You still do it.”

Chapter 14 — Lily

He told me. In fairness to him, he told me, and he did it two days later and not two months later, and he did it badly, sitting on the end of my bed at eleven at night like I was eight.