begged you to believe her and you didn’t.”
His face tightened.
“And you lost this house because you spent the money you needed to keep it.”
He had no answer.
I headed toward the door.
Behind me, he whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
I stopped once more.
For months, I had imagined hearing those words.
I thought they would make me angry.
Or satisfied.
They did neither.
I turned around.
“I hope someday Sophie believes that.”
Then I left.
—
Eight months after the night of the dress, Sophie and I sat on
