Peter hesitates. “Claire, I—”
“Peter.” My patience is hanging by a thread. “Tell me.”
A beat.
“Alright,” he says. “I know how it might have looked during his last days on Earth, and even the day he died, but Harold loved you.” Peter’s voice is cautious, like he’s handling a bomb that might go off in his face. “He loved you so much, Claire. He felt like he didn’t deserve you and that he held your life back, and these things ate at him. He might have made certain… bad decisions because of it.”
I scoff. “Like getting a mistress? Dying with her? Willing his money to her? How exactly was that love, Peter? Please, enlighten me.”
“People love in different ways.”
“That’s the dumbest shït I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m just telling you what I know, Claire.”
“Well, you’re starting to piss me off, ju
