Clara
I waited for him in the garden, unable to sit still inside the house, the cool evening air doing little to settle the storm of emotions churning through me since I'd handed him that folder hours earlier.
He arrived just after eight, still in his work clothes, his tie loosened and his expression carrying none of the careful composure I'd grown used to seeing him wear like armor. He crossed the garden without hesitation, stopping in front of me with an urgency that told me he'd spent every minute of the drive over rehearsing what he wanted to say.
"Clara." His voice was rough. "I don't know where to start. I've spent the last three hours trying to find the right words, and I don't think they exist. I'm sorry. For every cruelty I inflicted these past weeks. For the year I spent belie
