The next day came like any other day in the house. Loud and Caleb's silent wishful thinking that nothing would go wrong.
He'd waited in the room all day hoping Naya would come in and at least give him a chance to explain.
But like most times, she was being very Naya.
He'd been in the room for forty five minutes longer than necessary.
Not because he couldn't decide.
He always knew what he was doing. But because the moment he stepped out that door the night was real and the house was real and everything waiting inside it was real and he needed another minute before all of that became his problem.
He checked himself one last time in the mirror.
The Tom Ford suit was a deep charcoal, almost black under the room's lighting but catching something closer to grey in direct light. Slim cut.
Nothing excessive. The kind of tailoring that didn't announce itself because it didn't have to.
