Chapter 10: Sunday Dinner

George and Noah's mother came home on Sunday afternoon with tan lines and a suitcase of olive oil.

His mother held Noah's face in both hands in the front hall.

"You look thin," she said. "Are they feeding you?"

"I'm feeding them, Mom."

"Good boy."

George shook hands with each of his sons and then pulled all three into a clumsy hug, and Noah watched from the stairs with his throat tight.

For a moment it was the family he had wished for.

Dinner was at seven.

The long table had been set for eight, with candles and white linen and a huge roast.

George sat at one end with Noah's mother at his right.

The four boys sat along one side.

Maya sat across from them, in a green dress, with her phone face down beside her plate.

She was cheerful.

She asked about the honeymoon and told a long story about a cousin's engagement and laughed in all the right places.

Noah did not trust it for a second.

Under the table, Troy's knee pressed against his, and William's hand rested briefly on the small of his back.

Henry passed him the butter without a word.

Maya's eyes tracked every movement.

George topped up the wine.

"To the new family," he said. "I'm told the four of you have gotten along beautifully."

"We have, Dad," William said.

"Wonderful."

"Actually," said Maya, "since we're all here. There's something I think you should see, George."

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