Ethan looked at the service hallway.
At the marble floor.
At his daughter.
At the roses.
“No,” he said. “You did that when you decided other people’s dignity was optional.”
PART 3
Suite 904 overlooked Chicago like the city had been poured in silver.
The river curled between dark towers. Traffic moved below in red and white veins. Snow floated past the glass in soft pieces, disappearing before it touched the window.
Lupita placed the roses in a crystal vase on the table.
One stem leaned to the side, bent but still blooming.
Lily stood barefoot on the carpet in her pajamas, rubbing one eye with her fist.
“Put them by the window,” she said.
Ethan crouched beside her. “Why there?”
“So Mommy can see them.”
For a moment, Ethan could not speak.
Lupita turned slightly, giving him the mercy of privacy.
He placed the vase by the glass.
The roses glowed against the city lights.
