1
Lena.
I didn’t expect Micheal to be home when I arrived.
The key turned easily, the door swung open, and there he was, leaning against the kitchen counter like someone posing for an understated cologne ad. He was on button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, bare feet on the wood floor. He as calm and focused in that quiet, adult-man-who-knows-too-much kind of way.
“Hi,” I said, voice scraping the bottom of my throat. I was suddenly aware of the fact that my bra strap was slipping off my shoulder. This was the second time meeting my mother’s new husband. I didn’t really know what exactly to expect.
He didn’t smile. He nodded. “You’re early.”
“I didn’t realize traffic would be so forgiving.”
He nodded again. He was always like this. Efficient. Controlled. Unreadable. The fir
