Vivienne's POV
We sat in the car for a long time before I started the engine.
Neither of us suggested leaving immediately. The house was still lit behind us, the warm yellow of my mother's kitchen visible through the front window, and we sat with it at our backs the way you sat with something that had just happened and needed a moment to settle into its permanent shape before you moved away from it.
The street was quiet. Sunday evening quiet. The particular stillness of a residential road after dark when the day has concluded and the neighbourhood has retired into its private hours and the only sounds are distant and unhurried.
I looked at my hands on the steering wheel.
"She made you tea," I said.
"She did."
"The good mugs."
He was quiet for a moment. "I noticed."
"She doesn't us
