The partition between the front and back seats went up with a soft hum, and Alexander knew he was in trouble.
Gus never raised it. Not for traffic, not for phone calls, not even the time Nora threw up in the footwell. But his father reached over without a word and thumbed the button, and the glass slid shut, and the car became a very small room with two people in it.
"You went to her mother's workplace," Alexander said.
"I had lunch."
"At Lindy's. On Fulton Street. Where you've never once-"
"I tipped well."
"Dad."
"Sit back, Alexander." Richard was looking at his phone, thumbs moving, scrolling something Alexander couldn't see. The rain made long gray streaks across the window. "You'll crease your blazer."
He sat back. His hands wanted to shake and he pressed them flat on his knees
