I reached up and squeezed his hand, the way I had done since he was small enough to fit under my arm.
« I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. A top university. After everything. »
He didn’t answer right away. He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, his eyes settling on the middle-school photo at the top of the pile — a girl with dark hair and a shy smile. Ella.
« Have you thought any more about it? » he asked.
I blinked at him.
« Thought about what? »
« What you said. About Ella. »
My hand froze over the photographs. I had mentioned it once, late one night — half as a joke and half as a wish, that I would do anything to give him a real prom. I did not remember telling him I was actually considering it.
« Jeremiah, I was just talking. I shouldn’t have said it out loud. »
« You said you’d think about it, » he repeated. His voice was flat, almost patient. « I’m just asking if you have. »
