Others looked uncomfortable but said nothing.
Lila lowered her eyes to her phone.
Her thumb moved over a screen that had gone dark.
Warren picked up the wine list and studied it with sudden concentration.
I stood beside the empty chair with my purse still on my shoulder and my mother’s gift in my hand.
The room smelled of perfume, candle wax, steak, and expensive wine.
The sounds around me seemed too clear.
A fork touched a plate.
Someone shifted a chair.
The kitchen door swung shut behind a server.
Celeste maintained her public smile.
To anyone farther away, she looked like a mother offering her daughter a quiet piece of guidance.
Then she leaned close enough that only I could hear.
“Don’t make this awkward,” she said. “You know what I mean.”
I did know.
I had known since childhood, though the rules had never been written down.
