(Rebecca's POV)
"Rebecca."
I turn to Lisa.
She's not looking at my face. She's looking at my left hand — still wrapped around the handle of the knife. The thin strip of skin on my ring finger, slightly paler than the rest, exposed under the dining room light.
"Where's your ring, sweetheart?"
Ivy sets her glass down and looks at my hand. "You never take it off. You wash dishes with it on and polish it every week." Her voice curls at the edges. "You cherished that ring so much. You couldn't have lost it, could you?"
She says lost the way you'd say pawn.
"I didn't lose it."
"Then where is it?"
"I was getting dressed at Connie's and forgot to put it on."
Lisa's eyes don't leave my face.
"Rebecca. Have you and Sean had an argument?"
My chest locks. Across the table, Sean's fork stop
