“Chloe,” I said.

“I need to say one thing to you and then I’m not going to speak to you again for a very long time.”

The room was silent.

“You came to my house in August,” I said.

“The nineteenth.

You came for Sam’s birthday and you brought him that dinosaur thing with the lights.

You sat at that table and you ate the food I cooked and you held my daughter on your lap while she showed you her drawings, and by then it had been going on for a month.

“That’s not the affair.