(Amelia)
Nathaniel's door had always been one I didn't knock on. I stood outside it and made myself breathe, then knocked once and went in before I could talk myself out of it.
He was awake, sitting up against the headboard with a folder open on his knees, reading glasses on, his tie gone and his shirt undone at the collar. He looked up, surprised, because I never came here. This was his room, and I'd learned early which rooms were his.
"Amelia. Is something wrong?"
"No," I said. "Nothing's wrong."
I shut the door behind me. That got his attention. He set the folder aside.
I'd thought about how to do this all the way down the hall. I couldn't tell him the truth. The truth was a plan and a clock and a plane, and if he knew any of it he'd put the wall back up between us and I'd leave t
