What the heck was that?
“I’m just messing with you, kid,” Nathan said, grabbing a chip before he handed the bag back to Georgie and ruffled his hair. “Eat all you want. You’ve got it good now.”
I blinked repeatedly, my stomach sloshing with anxiety soup. I thought it was from Shane being on the TV, but now…
Nathan crossed to me next, plopping down on the floor next to where I sat. He wrapped me up from behind and kissed my hair. “That was a nice smile you had when I walked in,” he said, eyes flicking to the TV. Thankfully, it was on game highlights now, Shane no longer on screen. “WishIgot more of that smile.”
I swallowed, trying to shake off the weird feeling in my gut. “What do you mean? You get all my smiles.”
“Not that one. I wasn’t even in the room.”
I blinked again.
What was he getting at here?
Before I could wrap my head around the confusing comment, Nathan chuckled, leaning his chin on my shoulder and looking at the folded clothes in front of me.
“You’re so cute when you try to be domestic,” he said, picking up one of his night shirts I’d folded. He eyed it with amusement as he took a sip of the liquor in his glass. “Georgie, did you teach your sister how to fold, or did she learn from watching another toddler?”
Georgie’s smile was strained, and again, his eyes caught mine, like he was unsure what to say or how to react.
That makes two of us, I thought.
“I’m teasing you!” Nathan said, elbowing me.
I laughed, but it felt stranger than anything that had ever left my lips before.
My heart was pounding in my ears, but I didn’t know why.
“Here, let me show you,” Nathan said, and he kissed my cheek sweetly before holding up his shirt and instructing the proper way to fold it. Once he’d finished, he watched me re-fold three shirts before he seemed satisfied. “There you go. You’ll get the hang of it.”
He stood then, saying he needed to do some work in his study before he was humming his way down the hall like nothing had happened.
I stared at the shirts I had refolded, every edge sharp and straight, exactly the way he wanted them.
A thin line of unease coiled beneath my ribs.
It was small enough to ignore.
It was easy enough to swallow.
But it was the first crack in the glistening picture he’d painted for us.
I felt it — even if I didn’t realize what it was.
Finish the Job
Ariana
Present
“Okay, charcuterie and antipasto are out and ready,” I murmured to myself, ticking items off on my fingers as I paced around the kitchen. “Chicken Marsala is prepped to go in the oven… which is preheated… orzo and broccolini ready to go in right after… tiramisu chilling in the fridge… wine decanted…”
I exhaled, a nervous, excited laugh slipping out.
It was a Friday night in mid-November, one of those rare Florida evenings where the air felt cool enough to pretend it was fall. The windows were cracked, letting in a breeze that carried the faint scent of orange blossoms and saltwater. And I was hosting my first real dinner since our move.
Nathan had sprung it on me last minute, giving me only a few days’ notice, but I didn’t mind. I loved hosting. I loved the ritual of it: crafting a menu, setting a table, choosing a playlist that felt effortless but intentional. I loved the glow of the candles, the clink of glassware, the hum of conversation that wrapped around a room like a warm blanket.
