“Jefferson is downstairs,” he croons. “The jet will be ready by the time we get there.” He lifts my chin to his face and wipes away some wetness with his thumb. He knows I don’t want to talk, so he’s just being here. I want to tell him he can’t come, but I don’t have the strength.

I allow him to pull me to my feet and toward my bedroom. He leaves me at my door, pulls my empty suitcase from the floor where I left it, hauls open my closet, and starts throwing in random ...