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I grit my teeth. “Ecstatic.”

“Liar.” He leans down to me, his lips grazing the shell of my ear and his hand trailing up and down my back, a warning or a promise, I’m not sure which. “Don’t run.”

“Dinner is served,” Thomas announces from the doorway, and with it, my demise.

TEN

NAOMI

We file into the dining room like a well-rehearsed play. Mom claims her throne at one end, Dad his distant post at the other. Anne and Landon settle like paired chess pieces on one side, while Mykel and Madison mirror them opposite, leaving me to slide into my usual spot next to what should have been an empty chair.

The first course arrives. Soup.

I can do soup.

“Mrs. Smith,” Madison says. “I just love these place settings.”

“Anne,” David cuts in, “I heard your firm is doing very good. Impressive growth.”

“Yes.” Anne doesn’t look up from her food. “Thank you.”

“Though perhaps with a bit more aggressive?—”

“The firm’s doing perfectly, actually,” Landon says.

“Naomi,” Madison says from across the table, “that dress is gorgeous. Where did you get it?”

“Brandon picked it out,” Lydia answers before I can. “Didn’t he do well? Such excellent taste.”

“Actually,” I lock eyes with her, “I picked it out myself.”

Brandon’s eyebrows lift slightly. A silent question.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Mykel grins. “Remember that phase when you only wore black?”

“Better than your cargo pants era,” I say.

“Hey, those were practical!”

“For what? Smuggling snacks into the cinema?”

My mother slams her fork and knife on the table. “Kids. We have guests. Please.”

A warm touch brushes my knee beneath the table. I jerk, my spoon clattering against the plate. Brandon.

“Everything okay, dear?” Mom asks.

“Fine.” I clear my throat. “Just… hot.”

“Then blow on it first,” My mother states the obvious. “Mykel, tell everyone about your new position.”

My brother launches into some story about his latest project, but I’m barely listening, focusing on Brandon’s thumb tracing circles on my thigh. I’m caught between wanting to break his fingers and wanting to…

I lean over to Brandon, lowering my voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” he says.

“I didn’t invite you.”

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