When Dorothy finally came down from her apartment, her eyes were red and she had a travel bag slung over her shoulder. Angela rolled down the window as Dorothy approached the car.
“How’d it go?” Angela asked.
“It could’ve been worse,” Dorothy replied. “I think he was more confused than angry. Can’t say I blame him, finding out his whole life with me was a lie. He still thinks we can find a way to make it work, but there’s just nothing left to save. So we’re just going to—oh shit!”
She ducked down beside the car as a blue minivan passed by and pulled over to the curb up ahead. The driver was a middle-aged woman with greying brown hair and glasses.
“That’s your mother, isn’t it?” Angela said.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Angela said. “Get in.”
Dorothy opened the door and climbed into the backseat, keeping her head down. Her mother approached the apartment entrance. She rang the buzzer and, after a minute, the door opened.
“We should probably get out of here,” Angela said to Kay.
He gave a thumbs-up and hit the gas. Dorothy sat up straight, staring out the rear window.
“Thanks,” she said. “I know I should do the responsible thing and talk to her, but it’ll only make things worse. She’ll ignore everything I say and drag me to the church kicking and screaming. Even you couldn’t stop her.”
“I could if I stepped on her,” Angela said.
“Maybe some other time,” she said.
“You have my number,” Angela said with a wink. “So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” Dorothy said. “Probably just lay low at a hotel until the shitstorm blows over.”
“You can crash at my place if you want,” Deidre said. “Stay as long as you need.”
“Really?” Dorothy said. “But you don’t even know me.”
“I know you better than your fiancée did,” Deidre said. “Besides, I owe Angela a favor.”