There had been something like relief in the admission about his father, and the money — not relief, but something like it. The feeling of having pushed through something difficult, and now being on the other side of it; now it was said and would never need to be said again. He didn't feel that with this admission. Maybe it was partly that he didn't trust he was through the worst of it. There were still so many questions she might ask: how long, and how much, and how many times, and what sorts of things, and what had he done with them, and how had he managed it. So many details that could make this all worse by degrees depending on how they came out, and so far she hadn't asked for any of them. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she'd had her fill of bad news and things she couldn't do anything about. Maybe she'd come around to his original point of view, that it would have been better for her not to know.
His shoulders sagged further. "I know," he agreed, to her fitful starts and stops of sentences. Of course she didn't. There was nothing to be said that would change any of it, and certainly nothing she could do. He exhaled. A beat passed, then he hugged his arms more tightly to his chest and offered quietly, "I'm sorry I lied about you."
His shoulders sagged further. "I know," he agreed, to her fitful starts and stops of sentences. Of course she didn't. There was nothing to be said that would change any of it, and certainly nothing she could do. He exhaled. A beat passed, then he hugged his arms more tightly to his chest and offered quietly, "I'm sorry I lied about you."
Set by Lady!