We’d been sitting in the kitchen for an hour, and he kept starting sentences and stopping.
Nathan does that when something matters to him.
He’ll look at the table, rub his thumb against the side of his mug, say “So…” three times, and then decide maybe the thing can wait.
That night, it couldn’t.
« Can I do Dad’s job? At the wedding. »
I thought he meant handing out programs.
« What job? » I asked.
He looked at me like I was being deliberately slow.