“Lydia,” Jack sighed, his voice flannel-soft. “It’s not you.” “Then what?” A long pause, so long she thought Jack had forgotten to answer. When he spoke at last, he turned toward the window, as if what he really meant were outside, beyond the maple trees, beyond the lake and everything beneath them. “Nath.” “Nath?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be afraid of Nath. Nath doesn’t matter.” “He matters,” Jack said, still looking out the window. “He matters to me.”




















