We returned to New York the next day.
Since that night, Adam and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other. When we came home, he packed a suitcase and left without explanation.
That left me alone with John.
I had no desire to do anything. I crawled under the blanket with a book—a popular novel everyone was talking about. I read the whole day, or rather, I pretended to. In truth, my thoughts wandered far from the printed pages, drifting somewhere I couldn’t reach.
Days passed like that until Adam returned. He called John into his study, and they spoke in hushed tones for over an hour. It unsettled me. I knew they were hiding something from me.
On Friday, Adam never came home. He had, apparently, more pressing matters. I hated to admit it, but I missed him—or maybe I only missed the routine
