“Because I don’t know how to relate to people without comparing.”

That surprised me.

“I grew up in a family obsessed with presentation. Schools. Neighborhoods. Clothes. Restaurants. Who knew whom. I swore I wouldn’t become like that.”

“But you did.”

“Worse.”

“That explains you. It doesn’t excuse you.”

“I know.”

For the first time, she named what she had done.

My dresses.

My food.

Mauricio’s hands.

Olivia’s exclusion.

The gift comments.

Gabriel.

Christmas Eve.

“The worst thing was making Hugo tell you not to come.”

“Why did you insist?”

Her eyes filled.

“I wanted to prove that I decided who belonged.”

It was ugly honesty, but honesty.

“What changed first?”

“The house.”

I waited.

“When I saw the picture, I panicked because I realized I had looked down on someone who had more financial power than anyone I knew.”

“And then?”

“Then I realized that thought proved exactly how wrong I was.”

She looked down.

“If you had still been living in your apartment, I might not have felt guilty.”