“I see.” Then he was quiet. So was I. But eventually: “That’s actually why I went back to Arizona. I couldn’t just leave you with that uncertainty. Especially since I was the one to cause you that headache to begin with. I wasn’t being a responsible friend last month when I came to you with hearsay. Maybe he did this, maybe he did that—no. God, I cringe at myself. I was wrong to have brought that to you without all the facts. I hope you’ll forgive me for continuing to track this down, even when you told me to stop. I just, I thought that you should know in case—”

“In case someone else discovers it,” I finished for him. I’d been aware of this truth for less than a week, but it hadn’t escaped my mind that if Atlas knew, other journalists might, too. “I understand.”

“All right,” he said. “Then you don’t feel like you were hung out to dry?”

It would’ve been unfair, to say the least, to hold Atlas, the messenger, accountable for how he delivered the news of my father. But Ari’s voice, materializing out of the ether at the book party, still echoed in my ears. “About my father, no. But, seriously, Atlas, you could’ve told me about Ari moving back.”

From Atlas, a very deep breath. “Can we FaceTime?” he asked.

I agreed, and soon enough we were looking at each other. He wore a simple white T-shirt—his pajamas, maybe?—and his hair appeared as though he’d been running his fingers through it. I hoped he didn’t notice the dark circles under my eyes like I noticed the ones under his.

“You felt I was hiding something from you?” he asked, earnest.

“Yes.” Honesty, as necessary as it was, still made me uncomfortable. I pulled at my ponytail, cleared my throat. “And it made me feel—”

“Bad.”

“Yes. Bad. But I’m sure you had your reasons—”

“Daisy.” He put his hand out, mock stern. “Don’t you let me off the hook.”

“Fine.” I smiled. “Keep groveling.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He was back to seriousness. “I’ll do better in the future.”

I’ve had men in my past apologize to me like they are taking out the trash, like it’s a chore. Another couldn’t stop apologizing for his wrongdoing, a failure to call when he said he would. I had the sense he wanted to bury me in an avalanche of sorrys until I gave up and suffocated. Defensive ones. Lazy ones. And from my father, none at all. This one from Atlas was sincere, and though it was painful to bring up Ari, I was glad I had. At least now I didn’t have to sit with the lingering resentment of her ambush.