So caught up are they that they only notice me when I speak.
“That can only mean one thing,” he says bleakly, looking at Taylor, who is quick to nod his grim assent. His hands are in his hair, both angry fists gripping at tufts. I don’t bother knocking, but take a steeling breath as I open the door, and it serves me well because I stop breathing altogether when I clock my husband’s agitation.
