Roman
I had bared witness to my father’s stern gaze and tight-set frown a million times. The majority of those times, my brother was the recipient. Today, I was on the receiving end, and I had a profound new understanding as to why Row always looked like a pup with his tail tucked between his legs. Because that’s exactly how I felt as I pushed my chair away and got to my feet. The dark circles of jet lag under his eyes didn’t lessen their intensity when I met them across the room.
“What’re you doin’ here?” I posed the most absurdly obvious question.
I knew why he returned home a week early from vacation, looking madder than three shades of a grave. My question was more who told him – my money being on Liv.
“What am I doing here,” he repeated, purposefully sounding out each syllable bef
