And you know what? There’s no telling. I couldn’t romanticize my parents, couldn’t pretend that they would have been perfect. They would have ha... their own faults, and maybe as a teenager, I would have told them that I hated them. I might have driven them crazy, but still, they would have at least loved me—right?They would have loved me, and maybe then, I would have been familiar with these crazy, insane feelings that I had for Wes. How the hell could I love someone if I didn’t know the first. Walter. Constance had an inner sense of a fragile structure, a house of cards perhaps, trembling on the point of catastrophic collapse. If Walter was out here, it must be Lord Cuthburt in Daisy’s bed. He looked at the door. The sounds coming from behind it were nearing a crescendo, the creaking more rapid. Greta seemed stunned, unsure of what to do. It gave Walter a precious moment to dissemble and stare quizzically at Constance, the very picture of a man who wanted to ask who the devil she. More

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