Chapter 5
Lucas said his mother needed help, so I arrived early. She put an apron in my hands before my coat was off. Now its strings press into my waist as she offers my chair to Daphne.
Lucas’s mother rests a hand on the chair beside her son. “Daphne, sit here. This was always your place.”
Daphne glances at me. “I don’t want to take Kate’s seat.”
Lucas’s mother laughs. “It was yours long before she came along.”
Everyone hears her. Lucas looks down at his plate.
I wait for him to say my name, tell his mother to stop, or pull out the chair for me. He does none of those things.
Daphne sits.
There is an empty chair across the table, so I take it. From there, I can see Lucas and Daphne without turning my head. His mother pours wine for both of them and asks whether they remember the restaurant where Lucas took Daphne after graduation.
“Mom,” Lucas says, but there is no warning in his voice.
“What? We’re allowed to remember happy times.” She looks at me. “Lucas should have married her when he had the chance.”
My hand tightens around my water glass. I feel every ridge cut into my fingers.
Lucas sighs. “Kate, don’t make dinner uncomfortable.”
I have not said a word. He is blaming me for the argument he expects me to start.
His mother gives me a patient smile, as if my silence has already become bad behavior. “We’re only joking.”
I look at Lucas. He reaches for the bread.
Dinner moves through teachers, parties, and a road trip they planned. Every story ends with someone calling them inseparable.
I chew food I cannot taste.
Then Daphne laughs and says, “Lucas always did have a habit of giving everyone a piece of himself.”
The fork stops halfway to my mouth.
“Sometimes I feel as if everyone gets part of you except me.”
Those are my words.
I said them to Lucas in our bedroom two years ago after he missed Ethan’s school conference and blamed me for failing to remind him. I had cried while saying them. I remember keeping my voice low so Ethan would not hear through the wall.
Daphne knows the exact sentence.
Lucas meets my eyes, then looks away.
“When did he tell you that?” I ask.
Daphne’s smile fades. “We talk. Old friends do that.”
“About our bedroom arguments?”
“Kate,” Lucas warns.
My face burns. His warning confirms more than an answer would.
Daphne touches her napkin to her mouth. “He was worried about you. Especially after you gave up the leadership position. He thought you might resent choosing your family.”
For a few seconds, I cannot hear the conversation around me.
Lucas told her about the application. He told her why I withdrew. Maybe he told her I cried afterward, or how many times I reopened the confirmation email before deleting it.
Things I showed my husband when I thought I was safe have become conversation for the woman sitting in my chair.
“I didn’t choose,” I say. “Lucas asked me to withdraw.”
His mother sets down her glass. “A good wife doesn’t keep score.”
Lucas stays quiet. I wait through one breath, then another. He reaches for his wine.
When dinner ends, everyone pushes back from the table. His mother carries her wine into the living room. Lucas follows with Daphne, already asking whether she wants coffee.
The plates remain in front of me.
They expect the usual ending: I will stack the dishes, wipe the table, and join them once their comfort has been restored.
I untie the apron and lay it across Lucas’s untouched plate.
His mother turns from the doorway. “Kate, the kitchen—”
“You said Daphne belongs in my place.” I pick up my coat. “She can have the rest of it too.”
I leave every dish exactly where it is.