“Sienna doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I say, and my voice comes out even and I am genuinely proud of that.
Sienna laughs, soft and delighted, and opens her mouth.
“Drop it,” Cain says.
Not loudly. Not unkindly. Just flat and final and pointed directly at her.
Sienna closes her mouth. Picks up her wine. Smiles at my mother like nothing happened.
“The food is wonderful,” she says. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
My mother relaxes slowly and says something about the sauce and Marcus picks up his fork and the dinner table reassembles itself into something that looks normal, and I reach for my wine and don’t look at Cain and feel the specific weight of what just happened settle over the whole room like weather.
Under the table his hand finds my knee again.
I leave it
