looked half-erased.
Two shelves were bare. His books sat in boxes by the wall. The framed photo of Olive and me was wrapped in newspaper, and the mug she’d painted for him was already packed.
“Chelsea?”
I turned.
Ben stood in the doorway holding a coffee.
“Chelsea?”
I looked from him to the boxes.
“You accepted a job in Oregon?”
His face changed.
“I was going to tell you everything!”
“Chelsea, let me explain.”
I held up the lunch bag.
“You accepted a job in Oregon?”
“I brought you your favorite sandwich and apple pie because I thought you were exhausted. Meanwhile, you’ve been packing up your office.”
He set the coffee down.
“I haven’t finished packing.”
“That’s supposed to help me, Ben?”
“No.”
“I haven’t finished packing.”
“When were you planning to tell Olive?”
His mouth tightened.
“After I told you.”
“And when were you planning to tell
