“Because I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of hurting you.”
I almost laughed.
“He really left both of us with that job, didn’t he?”
I looked at the photographs again.
Mallory gave a sad smile.
“Yeah.”
I looked at the photographs again.
I wanted to hate them.
Instead, I picked up the bookshelf photo.
“He never read instructions.”
“Was he terrible at putting that together?”
Mallory actually laughed.
“Awful.”
“He never read instructions.”
“He kept saying the screws were wrong.”
When we left the café, Mallory hesitated outside.
“They weren’t.”
