than your worst decision. Whether she still believes that is something only she can answer.”
I stood silently in the hallway.
Then Dad added, “You should probably stop worrying about my opinion. Mine isn’t the one that matters.”
That evening, Dad asked me to walk with him.
We left Leo with Rowan and went to the small park two blocks away.
Early spring had softened the air, and daffodils were beginning to open.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” he said.
“Sorry.”
“Your mother used to do that.”
I smiled slightly.
“What
