“What?”

“Murals on the wall. Rugs. Chairs. New bed. Toys.” She ticked them all off, then said, “You started preparing for our arrival long before you asked me to come to Texas. This was all a plan from the beginning.”

“Yeah,” he said, refusing to deny this much, at least. “When I found out I had a daughter—after her mother had lied to me about it for five years—I had a room set up for her. That makes me a bad guy?”

She shook her head. “You don’t get it. But then, you never did.” She started walking again.

“What the hell? You don’t finish an argument? You just walk...