When I leave my mom’s hospice facility and climb into the Range Rover, Oded politely suggests that I call Kieran. When I pull out my phone, I see that I have several missed calls from him. s**t.
“I’m sorry,” I say as soon as he answers. “My phone must have been on silent.”
“It’s okay.” He sounds a bit stern, but not overly upset. “I knew where you were.”
His words twinge at my gut the way that sort of thing always does, but I don’t comment on it. It makes sense that Oded was reporting back. It’s late at night. Kieran's just looking out for me.
“I want you to come over,” he says.
I run a hand through my hair, internally debating whether or not to fight this request. I’m exhausted, and the last thing I want to do is brave the car ride to San Francisco, but I don’t want to fight. Besides
