During dinner, Claire questioned him constantly.
Where had he lived before?
Why did he move so often?
What jobs had he actually worked?
Later, I cornered her beside the sink.
“Can you please stop?”
“I’m asking questions.”
“You’re interrogating him.”
She glanced toward the dining room where Ryan was laughing with Dad.
“Maybe you should ask yourself why he makes me want to.”
The comment stayed with me longer than I admitted.
When I mentioned it later in the car, Ryan only shrugged.
“Maybe your sister just doesn’t like me.”
He said it so calmly, so reasonably, that I felt foolish for even bringing it up.
Maybe that was the first crack.
I just didn’t recognize it yet.