"Yeah."
"That's gonna cost you."
"I know."
He claps my shoulder.
"She deserves it to."
He goes back inside without waiting for me to answer.
Dinner ispasta and garlic bread and the bottle of red I had stashed for a bad night. Marcus tells old stories on himself to keep his sister laughing. She does. She throws her head back when she laughs and I try not to watch the line of her throat.
He stays two hours.
He hugs her at the door. Longer than the first time.
"Be stubborn," he tells her, low. "But not stupid."
"Same to you, big brother."
He gets in the Suburban. I walk him to the door of it. He rolls the window down.
"You call me."
"I'll call you."
He holds my eyes a second.
"She saidyes sirin front of you."
"Marcus."
"I heard her. In the office at lunch. When you asked her for her phone."
"Jesus Christ."
"I'm not mad about it. I'm just telling you I heard her."
"What do you want me to do with that information."
"I want you to do right by her. She hasn't said that to anyone since some photographer three years ago, and that boy didn't deserve it."
He puts the window up before I can answer.
The SUV rolls out. Taillights in the pines.
I stand on the gravel a long minute.
Then I go inside.
She'sin the living room. Fire down to coals. She's got her knees up on the couch, a blanket over her lap, the whiskey she barely touched in her hand. Her eyes meet mine across the room.
"You survived."
"Barely."
"He gave you his blessing?"
