The moment the words left my mouth, something flickered across her face.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
That irritated me even more.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some terrible mother because I work.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Nadine folded her arms.
“Tessa asked me not to tell you because she wants to explain it herself.”
“Then she can explain it tonight.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tomorrow matters to her.”
I laughed once, bitterly.
“This is ridiculous.”
Nadine looked directly at me.
“Then humor me. Be there at six.”
“I have a deadline.”
“Marla.”
Something in her voice made me stop.
“Be there this time.”
This time.
Two words.
And somehow they found every place in me I had been avoiding for years.
I thought of the winter concert I had watched through Nadine’s phone because I’d arrived after the last song.
The science fair where I showed up while teachers were folding tables.
The parent breakfast Eric attended alone because I had a meeting.
I hated that she was right enough to hurt me.
“Don’t make this about my job.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m making it about tomorrow night.”
I turned toward my car.
Behind me, Nadine said, “When you understand why she cut it, you’re going to wish you had been paying closer attention.”
I spun around.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
But she had already opened her door.
“Six o’clock, Marla.”
