41. Delilah
DELILAH
My mother opens the door wearing a pink sweater and pearls, her hair freshly styled, her smile polite but distant.
"Delilah. Kane. Come in."
She steps aside and we enter.
The house smells like roasted turkey and a sweetness I can't place. Maybe pumpkin pie. Maybe the candles burning on the hall table.
"Everyone's in the living room," she says. "Go ahead. I'll be right there."
Kane keeps my hand as we walk through the foyer.
The living room is full. Uncle Johnny and Aunt Virginia are on the couch. My cousins are scattered around the room, laughing at TikToks on someone's phone. Ed's by the fireplace, talking to someone I don't recognize.
No Vivian. No Connor.
That's something, at least.
Aunt Virginia sees me first. She stands immediately and crosses the room. "Delilah."
She pulls me into a hug that actually feels warm.
"It's good to see you," she says. "We've missed you."
"Missed you too."
Uncle Johnny waves from the couch. "Hey, kiddo."
I wave back.
Ed claps Kane on the shoulder. "Good to see you again."
Kane nods. "You too."
My cousin Rachel appears beside me. "I heard about the baking classes! That's so cool."
"Thanks."
"Are you still doing them?"
"Yeah. We're running them three times a week now. Puff pastry on Fridays. Bread on Wednesdays. Cake decorating on Saturdays."
"That sounds amazing. I want to come sooo bad!"
"You should." I laugh. "I'll get you the schedule."
She grins and pulls out her phone.
We sit on the loveseat near the window. Kane settles beside me, his arm draped across the back of the cushions.
I lean into him.
Rachel asks about the bakery and I tell her about the rebuild, the apartment upstairs, Priya's new winter menu about to debut for Christmas.
It feels normal. Easy.
My mother appears in the doorway. "Dinner's ready."
We move to the dining room.
The table is set with her good china and cloth napkins. A huge turkey sits in the center, surrounded by dishes of stuffing and green beans and cranberry sauce.
My mother gestures to the chairs. "Delilah, you and Kane can sit there."
She points to two seats near the middle of the table. Not the head, but not the foot either. Just like everybody else.
I sit. Kane sits beside me.
My mother takes her seat at the head of the table and folds her hands. "Let's say grace."
We bow our heads.
She says a prayer about gratitude and family and blessings. I keep my eyes closed and try to focus on the words, but my mind wanders. Also, it's really hard not to snort at the words family and blessings in the same sentence, considering, well. Everything.
After the prayer, we pass dishes around the table.
I take small portions of everything. Kane does the same.
"So when did the bakery reopen?" Uncle Johnny asks.
"A little over a month ago," I say. "The insurance payout covered most of the rebuild."
"Square footage staying the same?"
"The footprint stayed the same. We converted the upstairs storage into my apartment and added a teaching kitchen behind the shop."
"Permits clear? Zoning?"
"Commercial with residential overlay," Kane says, stepping easily into the conversation.
While he and my uncle get into the nitty-gritty of real estate drama, Aunt Virginia leans in. "Can you explain the pricing for the classes again?" she asks. "I might have some friends who are interested in joining."
"It depends on group size," I say. "Priya manages all the scheduling. But we can totally arrange custom dates and times for groups over ten participants."
"That's so good to hear! I'll have to tell Joyce and the girls."
My mother doesn't say much. She just watches me from the head of the table, unreadable.
I keep eating.
After a while, my mother sets down her fork. "Delilah, can I speak to you for a moment?"
"About what?"
"In the kitchen. Please."
I glance at Kane. He gives me a small nod.
I stand and follow her out of the dining room.
In the kitchen, she turns to face me. "I need you to do something."
"What?"
"I need you to speak to Connor."
"About what?"
"About reconsidering the engagement."
"No."
"Delilah—"
"I said no. I'm not doing that."
"Vivian is devastated. She's been crying for days. And Connor won't even answer her calls."
"That's not my problem."
"You could help her. If you just asked Kane—"
"I'm not asking Kane for money. And I'm not speaking to Connor."
Her jaw tightens. "You agreed to come here as a guest. That means you participate. You help."
"No, it doesn't. It means I sit at the table and eat dinner. That's all."
"So you're just going to let your sister suffer."
"She made her choices. Connor made his. I'm not responsible for either of them."
"You're being selfish."
"I'm setting boundaries. Big change, I know, but you'll all have to get used to it if you want me to stay in your lives."
She crosses her arms. "I don't know what's happened to you."
"What's happened to me is that I finally figured out I don't have to fix everyone else's messes."
"You used to be so helpful."
"Yeah. And you used to squeeze me for every drop of energy I had. Until there was none left for me. I'm done living like that, Mom. Respect it or don't, but that part's not changing."
I turn and walk back to the dining room.
Kane stands when I enter. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
He doesn't ask questions. Just picks up his coat.
My mother follows me into the room. "Delilah, sit down."
"No. I'm leaving."
"You're not leaving."
"Yes, I am."
Kane takes my hand and we head toward the door.
"Vivian," my mother snaps. "Get out here."
I stop.
Vivian appears in the doorway, her eyes red and swollen. She's wearing a gray sweater that hangs off her frame.
"Tell your sister you're sorry," my mother says.
Vivian looks at me. "I'm sorry."
It sounds rehearsed. Flat.
"For what?" I ask.
"For everything."
"Be specific."
She hesitates. "For the affair. And the lies. And—"
"You're not sorry," I say. "You're just doing what she told you to do."
My mother steps forward. "Delilah—"
"No. I'm done with this."
I turn toward the door again.
"This is your fault," my mother says to Vivian.
I stop.
"If you had just apologized properly," my mother continues, "she would have given you the money. But you couldn't even do that."
Vivian blinks. "Apologized properly?"
"Yes. Like we practiced! I gave you the script, for god's sake. All you had to do was stick to it."
Vivian's face goes pale. Then red.
Her head snaps to me. Horror covers her face for a second, then moves to Leanne's. They've said the quiet part out loud.
I almost want to laugh.
Why did I ever expect this to go differently?
"It's not fair, Mom," Vivian says, her voice now petulant like a child's. "Why am I the only one apologizing?"
"Because you're the one who needs her help."
"What about you?"
My mother blinks. "What about me?"
"You helped us! You knew about the affair for years. You moved the hotel rooms. Even paid for our nights at the Marriott's when Connor said money was tight. And then you took her shopping so she wouldn't find out about us!"
I feel the air leave my lungs.
"What?" I ask.
Vivian looks at me. "You were right about that part. She knew. Since Dad's funeral. She caught us at the hotel, then helped us cover it up. And when she decided we weren't sneaking around well enough, she took over planning."
I shake my head. "No."
"She was practically Connor's pimp."
I turn to my mother. "Is that true?"
She presses her lips together.
"Mom. Is that true?"
Her jaw tightens. "It's not what you think."
"Then what is it?"
She exhales. "I did help them. But only because I didn't want to cause a scene. Your father had just died. The family was grieving. I couldn't—"
"You covered for them."
"I protected the family."
"By lying to me."
"I didn't lie."
"You took me shopping so I wouldn't find out. I thought you were taking care of me. Taking my mind off things after Dad—" My voice crumbles. "But of course you weren't. It was never about me, was it? Or spending time with me. All you ever cared about was Vivian."
"I did what I thought was best."
"You kept your nose clean while she made a fool of me," Vivian retorts, venomous. "Well, guess what? I kept your texts, Mom!"
She pulls out her phone and scrolls through her texts, then shoves it in my face.
I read the thread.
Messages from my mother to Vivian. Dated February fifteenth, 2026. The night of my father's funeral.
I've moved my reservation to Room 1108. You're welcome.
Don't mention this to Delilah. She doesn't need to know.
If she asks where you were, tell her you went for a walk.
I scroll further.
More messages. March. April. May.
Keep the receipts separate. Don't use the card she can see.
If she asks about the hotel, say you were visiting Yvette.
I'm taking her shopping next week. You and Connor can use my other card for the hotel room. Make sure he's decent by the time we get back.
I hand the phone back to Vivian.
Then I turn to my mother.
"You lied to me. For years."
She straightens. "I protected you."
"From what?"
"From falling apart. You were already so fragile after your father died. If you'd known about Connor and Vivian—"
"I deserved to know."
"You would have made a scene. You would have confronted them. And the whole family would have suffered."
I feel tears burning behind my eyes. "How many times?"
"What?"
"How many times did you comfort me? How many times did you sit with me while I cried about losing Dad? How many times did you hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay?"
She says nothing.
"How many times, Mom?"
"I don't remember."
"Guess."
"Delilah—"
"Guess."
Her voice goes quiet. "I don't know. A dozen. Maybe more."
"And the whole time, you knew."
"Yes."
"You knew Connor was sleeping with Vivian. You knew they were together at the hotel. You fucking paid for it—"
"Language!"
"—and you still sat there and let me cry on your shoulder."
"I was trying to help you!"
"No." I shake my head. "You were only helping yourself."
I reach for Kane's hand.
I need him to help me leave. I need him to get me out of here before I say something I can't take back.
But then I stop.
Because Kane's investigators have been looking into this. Into Connor's movements, and when my mother found out.
I turn to him. "Did you know?"
He doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
The room goes silent.
"When?" I ask.
"Yesterday."
My head spins.
"You've known since yesterday?"
"Yes."
My voice shakes, but I don't care. "And you didn't tell me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't want to ruin Thanksgiving. I wanted you to have one more day with your family before—"
I pull my hand away.
Kane reaches for me. "Lilah—"
"Don't."
"I was trying to protect you."
"Like my mother was trying to protect me?"
Hurt flashes in his eyes. "That's different."
"How?"
"I wasn't lying to you. I was just—postponing."
"That's the same goddamn thing."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is. You knew. You had proof. And you didn't tell me."
"I was going to tell you after today."
"So you decided for me. Again."
He flinches.
I step back.
My mother moves toward me. "Delilah—"
"Don't. Just—don't."
I look at Kane. At my mother. Vivian. All the liars in my life who spent months and years pretending they ever gave a shit.
Then I turn around and walk out on all of them.