19. Calliope #3
I make it to the kitchen sink before I realize I have brought my phone with me. Theo’s thread is still open. His last message, Are you here?, sits above my answer from the porch, and my throat tightens at the sight of it. I set the phone facedown beside the sink and turn on the water.
The kitchen is only a few steps from the dining table, close enough that I can hear Sloane say something low to Theo and Garrett answer Idris about Miller’s next check-in.
Close enough that leaving shouldn't feel like leaving.
I rub my damp hands together under the water and press my wrist briefly to my chest when the ache doesn't stop.
“Calliope.”
Idris’ voice comes from behind me, quiet enough not to carry.
I turn off the water and reach for the towel because it gives me something to do. “I’m fine.”
He steps beside me, not blocking my view of the dining room. From here, I can still see part of the table: Sloane’s hand moving as he talks, Garrett’s profile at the head, Theo’s shoulder in the oversized sweatshirt. Idris looks at my face instead of where I'm looking.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
I should have an answer. I teach language for a living. I spend half my day pulling meaning from things people almost say. But standing there with my hands damp and my phone silent beside the sink, I can't turn the feeling into anything that sounds reasonable.
I look toward the table again. Theo is sitting exactly where Garrett put him, listening to Sloane with his hands near his plate.
He looks up as if he feels my attention and meets my eyes across the room.
The moment our gazes touch, something in his face brightens, then gentles again when Garrett says his name.
My hand rises to my chest before I can stop it.
Idris sees.
“Did I do something?” I ask.
The question comes out small, and I hate that. I hate it enough that I try to pull it back with a laugh, but Idris is already reaching for me.
“No, princess.” His hand cups my jaw, warm and certain, and he turns me toward him with a care that makes my eyes burn. “You’re perfect.”
I close my eyes when he kisses me.
It isn't a long kiss. It doesn't need to be. His mouth touches mine with steady pressure, his thumb brushing once along my cheek, and for a few seconds I let myself lean into the certainty he's offering. Idris doesn't give easy comfort. He gives the kind he means.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “He keeps looking for you.”
My breath catches.
“I know,” he says before I can turn that into an apology. “Come back to dinner.”
I nod because that much I can do.
Idris takes the towel from my hands, finishes drying my fingers himself, then picks up my phone and gives it back to me. His eyes flick to the open thread, but he doesn't comment. He only waits until I take it, then rests his hand at the small of my back and walks me toward the table.
Theo looks up immediately.
There is no hiding the way he does it. His whole body shifts toward me before he catches himself, knee knocking lightly against the table leg.
Sloane sees it and smiles, not teasing, just soft.
Garrett sees it too, and the smile he gives us is calm enough that I feel ridiculous all over again for the strange pinch under my ribs.
I sit beside Sloane.
His arm goes across the back of my chair at once, and when I settle, his fingers brush my shoulder in a slow, grounding pass. Idris returns to his seat beside Theo. Garrett resumes the conversation about Miller’s check-in as if nothing has shifted. Maybe nothing has.
My phone buzzes in my lap and I look down.
Theo: Sit with me after dinner?
Across the table, Theo is staring at his plate like the chicken has become fascinating. His ears are pink. One hand rests near his phone, the other curled in the sleeve of Sloane’s sweatshirt.
The ache in my chest changes shape.
Me: Yes.
Theo reads it, and his shoulders drop.
Sloane glances at my phone because he's nosy and because I don't bother hiding it well. His mouth softens when he sees the message, and his hand slides from my shoulder to the back of my neck, thumb moving once beneath my hair.
“After dinner,” he murmurs near my ear, “we are all sitting somewhere soft.”
I turn my head toward him. “That sounds like a plan.”
“It is the only plan I'm qualified for tonight.”
I laugh quietly, and the sound makes Theo look up again. This time, he smiles before looking away.
Garrett pours more water into Theo’s glass. “Finish a few more bites first.”
Theo nods and picks up his fork. I take another bite too, with Idris watching from across the table and Sloane’s hand warm at the back of my neck. Theo has asked me to sit with him after dinner, and I hold on to that.
The table is full. The house smells like lemon and garlic and rain. Every person I love or am trying not to love too quickly is within reach if I stretch far enough. Still, my eyes keep going to the space across from me.
Theo catches me once and lifts his foot under the table, not quite reaching mine. I shift before I think better of it, sliding one foot forward until our socks touch beneath the table’s edge. His breath leaves him in a tiny rush.