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"Oh, Mom, come on! You can tell me."
But Carolyn mulishly refused to answer.
"He loves you, you know," April went on casually.
"What?" Carolyn exploded. "How do you know that?"
"He told me."
"He told you? What exactly did he say?"
"He said"—and here April tried, not very successfully, to imitate the mellifluous tones of Kumar's Indian accent—"'You know I love Carolyn.' And I said, 'Of course I know that! I'm not a dummy.'"
"Wh-when did he say this?"
"A couple days ago."
"A couple days ago? That's sooner than he told me!"
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah! He only told me yesterday night."
"Well, that's funny. But it was obvious, Mom." April paused a bit. "I guess he was hesitant to tell you because maybe he thought you didn't want to hear those words."
"Don't be silly, dear. Every woman wants to hear those words—or, at least, every woman is gratified if someone says them."
"Maybe he thought you weren't ready."
"Ready? Ready for what?"
"Well, maybe you were still mooning over Dad leaving."
"I wasn't mooning! I mean, I was shocked and disappointed, but—"
"Mom, you said yourself just now that you were freaked out. He must have picked up on that."
"Okay, maybe."
"So he thought you might—"
"Might what?"
"Reject him."
"I'd never do that!"
"So you love him?"
"Of course I do."
"Did you tell him?"
"Yes, I told him."
"Last night?"
"Yes, last night."
April settled back in her seat, thoroughly satisfied. "Good. Glad to hear it."
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