The living room hummed with voices. Champagne glasses clinked. Someone laughed too loud near the piano.
I stood by the mantel with a plate I wasn't eating from. Noah was on the floor with his cousins, building a tower out of wooden blocks. Chase was across the room talking to Uncle Rob about interest rates or market corrections or something else I stopped listening to years ago.
Layne was on the sofa. Emerald green silk. One hand on her stomach. Aunt Diane beside her, leaning in close, whispering something that made Layne smile.
I took a sip of water. Set the glass down. Waited.
Chase checked his phone. Frowned. Looked toward the hallway.
Then he turned to Uncle Rob and said something I couldn't hear. Gestured toward the back of the house. Uncle Rob nodded.
Chase walked away.
I counted to sixty. Then sixty again.
Then I set my plate on the mantel and moved toward the back staircase.
No one noticed. Or if they did, they didn't care. I was just getting something. Checking on something. It didn't matter.
I climbed the stairs. Turned left. Walked to the guest room at the end of the hall.
The room was cold. The bed was made with the quilt my grandmother stitched thirty years ago. I crossed to the window and looked down.
The garden stretched out below. Bare hedges. Brown grass. The stone path my father laid when I was twelve.
And there, past the hedgerow, near the bench no one ever sat on—
Chase.
He was facing away from the house. Hands in his pockets. Breath misting in the cold.
Layne came around the corner a moment later.
She walked fast. Purposeful. Her coat was open. Her hair moved in the wind.
She reached him. He turned. She stepped into him. His arms went around her waist. Her face tilted up.
They kissed.
Not long. Not dramatic. Just a kiss. The kind you give someone when you've done it a hundred times before.
Then they pulled apart. Stood close. Talked.
I couldn't hear them. But I could see their mouths move. See Layne's hand on his chest. See Chase lean down and say something that made her smile.
Eleven minutes.
I know because I counted.
My hands were flat on the windowsill. My breath fogged the glass. I didn't move.
I just watched.
---
Chase came back inside first.
I was already downstairs by then. Back at the drinks table. Talking to Aunt Karen about preschool snack policies.
"They won't allow anything with sesame now," Karen was saying. "It's a nightmare."
"Mm," I said.
I watched Chase cross the room. Saw him pick up his drink. Saw him laugh at something my father said.
He hung his coat over the chair again. Same spot. Same careless drape.
I excused myself.
I walked to the chair. Reached into the pocket. My fingers closed around the recorder.
I pulled it out. Slipped it into my purse. Kept walking.
The downstairs bathroom was empty. I locked the door. Sat on the closed toilet lid. Pulled out my phone and the recorder and the little adapter cable I'd tested twice last night.
The file transferred in forty seconds.
I put in my earbuds. Pressed play. Volume low.
Static first. Rustling fabric. Footsteps.
Then his voice.
"Hey."
"Hey." Layne. Breathless. Happy.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine. I just—needed to see you."
"I know."
A pause. The sound of a kiss. Soft. Then another.
"God, I missed you," Layne said.
"It's been two days."
"Two days too long."
Chase laughed. Low. Warm. The laugh I used to think was mine.
"You're the one I actually love, you know that," he said.
I pulled out one earbud.
I looked at the bathroom mirror. My face looked back. Same face. Same eyes. Same mouth.
I put the earbud back in.
"When are you going to tell her?" Layne asked.
"Soon."
"You keep saying that."
"I mean it. After the bonus clears. March at the latest."
"March."
"I promise."
Another pause. More rustling.
"I love you," Layne said.
"I love you too."
The recording went quiet. Footsteps. A door closing somewhere.
I stopped playback.
I sat there for a long time.
Then I stood. Flushed the toilet I hadn't used. Washed my hands. Checked my lipstick.
I walked back out.
---
The dining room was starting to fill. People drifted toward the long table. My mother's caterer was setting out platters. Salmon. Roasted vegetables. Some kind of grain salad no one would finish.
I found the Bluetooth speaker on the sideboard. Small. Black. The one my father bought last Christmas because he wanted to play jazz during dinner parties.
I pulled out my phone. Opened settings. Scrolled to Bluetooth.
The speaker appeared in the list.
I tapped connect.
A soft chime. Connected.
I opened my music app. Hit play on something random. Volume at zero.
It worked.
I disconnected. Locked my phone. Slipped it back into my purse.
I walked to the table. Found my place card. Sat down.
Chase sat beside me a moment later. He smiled. Squeezed my knee under the table.
"You good?" he asked.
"I'm good."
Across the table, Layne was laughing at something Aunt Diane said. Her hand rested on her stomach again. Protective. Proud.
I poured myself a glass of water.
I ate a piece of bread.
I waited.
