Chapter 9
The house on Bayshore Boulevard was the same pale stucco I'd known for three years, with the same wind chimes Graham's mother kept by the front door and the same view of the water going pink behind the palms. Graham parked his truck behind his dad's sedan and cut the engine. He didn't look at me.
"We're fine," he said. "We had a long week. That's it."
I kept my left hand in my lap. The diamond caught the late light through the windshield. I hadn't taken it off since the nightclub. I'd slept with it on, showered with it on. My thumb kept finding its edge.
Inside, the air conditioning hit hard and the kitchen smelled like roast chicken and rosemary. His mother, Diane, hugged me first, then him. She held my shoulders a second longer than usual.
"Celeste, honey, you look tired," she said.
"Long week at the office," Graham said before I could answer. He squeezed my elbow, light but firm. "Traffic on Central's been brutal."
His father nodded from the island where he was slicing bread. The table was already set for four, water glasses beaded with condensation, cloth napkins folded the way Diane always did. I sat where I always sat, to Diane's right. Graham sat across from me, not beside me, and I noticed it immediately.
Diane poured iced tea and talked about the neighbor's new fence and the gala she was helping with at the church. I breathed through it and kept my hands clasped around my glass. The diamond was tucked against my palm, hidden. I told myself it was because the stone got cold against glass, but I knew what I was doing.
Halfway through passing the green beans, Diane looked directly at my hands.
"Oh, let me see," she said, smiling. "I haven't seen that ring up close in ages. Graham's grandmother would have loved seeing you wear it to that nightclub you all went to."
The room didn't go quiet all at once. It went still in pieces. Graham's fork stopped midway to his plate. His father kept his eyes on the serving spoon.
I felt Graham watching me. I could see his left hand on the table, bare where the band should have been. He'd left his wedding band at home on our bathroom counter since that night. Not lost, placed.
Diane held her hand out, palm up, the same gesture Graham had made at the marble table. "Just for a second, sweetheart?"
I curled my fingers tighter. My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.
"I'm keeping it on right now," I said.
Diane's smile thinned but didn't drop. She glanced at Graham.
Graham cleared his throat. "She's been careful with it," he said. "You know how she is."
Diane tilted her head. "Graham mentioned there was a little drama on Central. He said you were out with friends and he ran into you there." She turned back to me, her tone still light, still curious. "Who was that man at the club with you? Graham said he didn't recognize him."
My chest went tight. Under the table, my right hand found the edge of my napkin and twisted.
Graham answered before I could inhale.
"Just some guy from her office," he said, his voice even, practiced. "Landon. He was hanging around our booth. Nothing to worry about. We talked about it."
He said Landon's name like he was closing a door for me. He didn't look at me when he said it. He looked at his mother, giving her the version that made me quiet.
I felt the old pull to let him finish the sentence for me, to nod and look down and let the dinner keep moving. It would have been easier. The chicken would have gone around, the tea would have been refilled.
I looked at Diane. Her eyes were on me, waiting.
"Landon is a coworker," I said. My voice was quiet but it didn't shake. "Maya was there too. We all work together. We were in a booth, talking, and Graham came by."
Graham's jaw moved once. He set his fork down.
Diane's eyebrows lifted a fraction. "Oh, Maya was there. That's nice."
"Yes," I said. I kept my hands clasped. The ring pressed into my skin. "I told Graham I was with the girls that night. I should have said Maya and Landon were coming too. But I wasn't hiding anything. And I'm not taking the ring off at the table."
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't pull my hand away like I was protecting something stolen. I just kept it where it was, fingers interlaced, diamond down against my knuckles.
Diane looked between us. She withdrew her hand slowly and picked up her water glass.
"Of course, honey," she said. "No one said you had to."
May you like
Graham didn't speak. His face had gone very still, the way it had in the booth when I'd said his name instead of giving him the ring. The humiliation was right there, open, because I hadn't let him answer for me. Across the table, his father started talking about the Buccaneers' preseason, too loud, filling the space.
Under the table, Graham's knee brushed mine and then pulled back. I kept my hands clasped until Diane stood to clear plates, until the light over Bayshore slipped from pink to gray, and the ring stayed where it was.
