FAT, BARREN, AND REJECTED
I looked past him, briefly, toward Jason, and found him watching the exchange with an unreadable stillness that told me nothing about whether he believed a single word being spoken in front of him, or whether he was simply gathering ammunition for whatever conversation would come once Sherwood finally left.
“I don’t have money to give you,” I said, which was mostly true. Whatever I’d built in the years since the divorce belonged to a life I’d left behind at that airport, not to whatever fragile arrangement I was currently balanced inside.
“Then perhaps,” Sherwood said, “we discuss reinstatement instead.”
“Reinstatement.” The word came out of me flat with disbelief.