“Mom wants to see you,” he said.
My stomach tightened.
“I’m sure she does.”
“She’s upset.”
I looked at him.
He winced. “Bad word choice.”
“Yes.”
“She’s… shaken.”
“That sounds closer.”
“She said she wants to explain.”
I almost smiled. “Explain what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Derek, I didn’t come here to punish her.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He held my gaze. “After that speech? Yeah. I do.”
Something in his answer disarmed me.
For years, I had imagined my brother as part of the wall between me and my parents. Now here he was, standing in a corridor, looking as though he had discovered a door neither of us knew existed.
“I have a reception,” I said.
“Right. Of course.”
“And you have your family dinner.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Mom told me months ago. Big dinner. Favorite restaurant. Champagne. All the things.”
He looked away.
