"Do you mean… your wife?" asks Kendra. That would be weird, a very weird question to ask a delivery person, but maybe he's proud of her, maybe he expects Kendra to be a fan?
Kendra doesn't really know whether anyone takes Josephine seriously at this point, but maybe that's what he's talking about.
But he doesn't speak, he doesn't give the quick and easy answer. He pauses, and for a second Kendra doesn't think he's going to answer her at all.
"No," he says eventually. "I'm not talking about my wife."
Which means he's talking about the other Her. The Her who shouldn't be here yet. The her he shouldn't know about.
Cool sweat speckles the back of Kendra's neck, her skin gone cold and clammy.
Kendra doesn't really know whether anyone takes Josephine seriously at this point, but maybe that's what he's talking about.
But he doesn't speak, he doesn't give the quick and easy answer. He pauses, and for a second Kendra doesn't think he's going to answer her at all.
"No," he says eventually. "I'm not talking about my wife."
Which means he's talking about the other Her. The Her who shouldn't be here yet. The her he shouldn't know about.
Cool sweat speckles the back of Kendra's neck, her skin gone cold and clammy.