Chapter 4
The dining room had reached that uncomfortable midpoint in the evening when conversation overlapped just enough to feel lively, but not enough to feel relaxed.
Voices bumped into one another, laughter arrived late, and no one quite knew when to stop talking.
It felt less like a party and more like a room full of people trying to convince one another they were having a good time.
Erica stood near the swinging door that led to the living room, wine bottle in hand, caught halfway between the guests she’d invited and the one she hadn’t. Zach was explaining himself again, his words coming faster now, as if repetition might soften the idea.
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” he said, palms up, negotiating rather than confessing. “It’s just . . . something different. A surprise.”
“A medium,” Chad said, leaning back in his chair, already smiling. “You hired a medium for her birthday?”
“Yes.”
Chad laughed, short and dismissive. “That’s not a present. That’s a bit.”
“I thought it’d be—” Zach started.
“Unique,” Liv said quickly, nodding with more certainty than the moment seemed to call for. She was trying to smooth the edges. Erica could tell. She always did.
Erica poured wine and pretended not to notice that Chad’s glass was empty again, Beckie’s too.
She’d refilled both of them less than ten minutes ago.
They were drinking faster than everyone else—the way people did when they were either very comfortable or deeply bored.
Erica clocked it the way she clocked everything: no judgment, just data.
“So,” Chad said, swirling his glass. “Is the ghost guy just hanging out in my living room?”
“He’s not a ghost guy,” Zach said. “He’s a medium.”
“Like that’s any better.”
Liv hadn’t touched her wine. She sat rigid, hands folded in her lap, eyes flicking between faces like she was reading a room she didn’t trust. The sight of Liv’s untouched glass tugged at Erica’s sense of hosting responsibility—and with it, the realization that she hadn’t checked on Elias.
With the wine bottle in hand, she slipped into the living room. Elias sat on the floor, his empty glass resting beside him, while he arranged the contents of his duffel bag across the coffee table. He looked up as she entered, unbothered by the interruption.
“Sorry,” she said, lifting the bottle. “I realized I hadn’t checked on you.”
He smiled and raised his glass. “I was hoping you’d come back.”
She refilled it, stopping just shy of the rim.
“Thank you,” he said. “It helps me settle.”
“We’re almost done in there.” She gestured vaguely to the dining room.
“Take your time,” he said, and then drained half the wine in a single, unhurried swallow.
The casualness of it unsettled her. The way he acted like he belonged here, like he wasn’t an intrusion but an inevitability.
Erica nodded, suddenly aware of how strange it felt—standing in her own living room, topping off a stranger’s drink while he prepared something she didn’t believe in.
“Okay,” she said, already backing away.
Elias didn’t move. He just smiled like he knew something she didn’t.
Returning to the dining room felt like crossing between worlds.
“Is it safe to give the medium alcohol before a session?” Derek asked. “Couldn’t that, like . . . unleash the devil or something?”
“The only thing being unleashed is the money Zach wasted on this hack,” Chad said, laughing.
“Be nice,” Erica warned. “He can probably hear you.”
“Well, if he’s psychic . . .” Chad lifted his glass. “Then he already knows how I feel.”
“He’s a medium,” Zach corrected. “That’s different.”
Beckie tilted her head and hiccuped. “Is it, though?”
“Yes,” Zach said. “Psychics read energy. Mediums communicate with spirits.”
“Just different names for two types of con artists,” Chad said, amused with himself.
Liv cleared her throat. “I went to a medium once.”
The table went quiet in a way that felt unintentional but absolute.
Derek turned toward her. “When?”
“After my mom died.” Liv’s voice stayed steady, but her fingers had tightened around her napkin. “She told me things she couldn’t have known.”
Beckie snorted. “Or she got you talking without you realizing it. That’s what they do. They say vague stuff and let you fill in the blanks. Your loved one misses you. They’re proud of you. Blah, blah, blah.”
“That’s not what happened,” Liv said, a sharpness slipping into her tone. “It was specific.”
“People want it to be real, and they overshare,” Beckie argued. “Grief makes you generous.”
Liv huffed and finally took a sip of her wine.
Chad lifted his glass. “Cheers to Zach for funding tonight’s cheap entertainment.”
Beckie clinked hers against his, laughing. Derek joined in, eager to belong to the moment, but Liv shot him a glare, and he dropped his gaze.
Erica looked around the table, really looked this time.
Beckie and Chad were already half in the bag, their laughter coming too easily, words spilling without friction.
Liv sat rigid beside Derek, offering him nothing but silence, her attention fixed somewhere else entirely.
Zach had gone quiet, shoulders drawn in, the enthusiasm he’d arrived with draining as the mood soured around him.
The night wasn’t slipping because anything terrible had happened. It was slipping because it wasn’t following the plan.
The swinging door creaked. They all turned. Elias leaned casually against the frame. He’d shed the blazer. Without it, he looked heavier, more solid. It was like he’d settled into the space.
My space, Erica thought, startled by the possessiveness of it.
“I’m ready for you whenever you are,” Elias said.
The candles flickered, but no one spoke.
“I’ll take some more wine too,” he added, already turning away.
Chad pushed his chair back and stood. “Well, I, for one, am excited to watch Zach burn money in real time.”
Beckie snorted as she got to her feet. “Either way, this will be incredibly entertaining.”
She took a step and nearly went down, her heel catching on the rug.
“Oh—” She laughed in slight embarrassment, still sober enough to care.
Chad grabbed her arm without missing a beat, steadying her like it was second nature. “Careful there. You wouldn’t wanna die before the séance.”
Beckie laughed harder. “If I do, I’ll haunt you.”
“Please don’t,” Chad said. “I already have enough people in my business.”
They headed toward the living room together with Derek and Liv quietly trailing behind them.
Zach lingered. “Hey,” he said, touching Erica’s arm just enough to stop her. “We don’t have to do this.”
She looked at him, at the careful way he waited for her answer, and the concern he hadn’t tried to joke away.
“It’s fine,” she said, though the word felt thinner than she meant it to.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Zach nodded, reassured enough to follow the others.
Erica took one last look at the table. The plates were not quite cleared. The salad sat barely touched. Wine rings ghosted the linen. And she sensed that she was agreeing to something she wouldn’t be able to take back.