Victor’s chair scraped back at 12:07 and he still didn’t look at me.
Lunch was sandwiches and leftover salad. His mother asked about the donors. He answered in full sentences, campaign-bright, one hand loose around his water glass. Under the table my thighs were pressed together. Every shift made more of them seep out of me, warm against the cotton panties I’d put on after the quick shower. Cole’s foot rested against mine. Ethan’s eyes tracked the neckline of my dress whenever Victor glanced at his phone. Robert cut his food and said nothing. When Victor’s phone buzzed he stood, already talking, and walked toward the study with a distracted nod at the table. The door clicked shut behind him. His voice carried faintly through the wall—polite, distant, mayoral.
Robert set his fork down. “N
