DASHIELL
The silence lasted exactly three seconds.
Then Mom brought her hands together in a soft clap, the sound loud in the quiet living room. "There they are." Warmth lit Mom's face, but her eyes moved quickly between Alexander and me.
Alexander's hand rested lightly against the small of my back as he guided me inside. The living room had already been rearranged for company.
Dad sat in the armchair near the fireplace, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. Mom occupied the end of the sofa, Selene curled beside her with one leg tucked underneath. Bianca had taken the opposite sofa and rose the moment we crossed the threshold.
"Hi, Dash."
I stopped a few feet away. "Hello."
For a second neither of us moved. Then Bianca's expression slipped into the polished, practiced look photographers loved, one that never quite reached her eyes when the cameras weren't rolling.
"I've missed you."
"I've been at work," I said.
Something flickered across her face before she recovered, the composure slipping neatly back into place. "Yes… well…" She tucked a strand of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. "I suppose I mean I haven't seen you in a while."
"That is true."
Selene coughed into her fist. Alexander remained beside me, silent, his presence steady and unapologetic.
Bianca's gaze slid toward him for half a second before returning to me. "I wanted to apologize," she said, her voice softer now. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner." She hesitated, then continued. "After… after your marriage."
The pause didn't escape me. "You were going to say something else."
She blinked. "What?"
"You stopped halfway through your sentence."
"Oh." A light laugh. "I just… wasn't sure how to phrase it."
I nodded once. "All right."
Mom gestured toward the sofa opposite Bianca. "Sit down, both of you."
Alexander waited until I sat before taking the seat beside me. His knee settled against mine—not by accident and Bianca noticed. Her eyes flicked down, then away.
"So…" She folded her hands neatly in her lap. "How have you been, Dash?"
"I've been well."
"And work?"
"Busy."
She laughed again, the sound a little too bright. "You've always answered questions with the shortest possible sentence."
I considered that. "Yes."
Selene snorted, earning a warning look from Mom. Bianca's smile faltered for only a fraction of a second.
"I heard you've become quite the neurologist."
"I already was."
Dad hid a cough behind his hand. Mom suddenly found the coffee table very interesting.
Bianca cleared her throat. "I meant… you're doing well."
"I like my job."
"I know you do."
A brief silence settled over the room, thick enough to notice. I studied her—the careful posture, the way her fingers had begun to press against one another, the faint tension at the corners of her mouth.
"You're uncomfortable."
Her eyebrows lifted. "What makes you say that?"
"You've laughed six times since we walked in."
Selene's head dropped immediately, her shoulders beginning to shake. Dad reached for his coffee to hide the corners of his mouth. Mom pressed her lips together until the color left them.
Bianca looked around the room, suddenly aware that everyone had noticed. "I haven't."
"You have." I counted quietly on my fingers. "Greeting me. Correcting yourself. Asking about work. Commenting on how briefly I answer questions. Talking about my job." I looked back at her. "And just now."
Selene let out a muffled laugh she couldn't contain. Bianca stared at me for a long moment. Then, for the first time since we'd walked through the door, the practiced expression fell away.
She held my gaze for another moment before letting out a slow breath.
"…You're still exactly the same."
"I don't think I've changed very much."
"No," Selene muttered under her breath. "You definitely haven't."
A reluctant smile tugged at Bianca's mouth before she looked away from me—toward Alexander.
I followed her gaze without meaning to.
His sleeves were still rolled to the forearms from the hospital, the top button of his shirt left undone so a narrow strip of tanned skin showed at the base of his throat. Sitting down somehow didn't diminish him; if anything the sofa looked slightly too small. Bianca's eyes moved over him the same way, lingering a second longer than necessary before lifting to his face.
Something uncomfortable settled low in my stomach.
I didn't like it.
I couldn't explain why. She'd looked at people before. Alexander was objectively attractive; people looked at attractive people all the time. That was normal. But this didn't feel normal.
Alexander gave no sign of noticing. Or perhaps he had. With Alexander, the difference was almost impossible to tell.
Bianca's features warmed as her attention settled fully on him.
"I hope you don't mind me dropping in unexpectedly."
"I was informed yesterday," he answered evenly.
She laughed softly. "Well… since I'm already here…" She glanced around the room before looking back at Alexander. "I was actually wondering if I could stay a couple of days. I'm only in the city for the week, and it seemed silly to book a hotel when my family has so much space." Her voice softened, almost coaxing. "I hope that's all right with you."
The room fell noticeably quieter.
Dad looked to Alexander instead of answering for him. "It's your home," he said simply.
Mom gave a small nod.
Alexander didn't answer straight away.
My fingers laced together in my lap. For reasons I couldn't explain, his answer suddenly mattered very much.
*****
I closed the bedroom door a little harder than usual. The soft click felt strangely inadequate against the noise inside my head.
I walked straight to the closet and began undressing in the exact same order I always did. Shirt first. Then trousers. Then the rest. Each piece was folded with careful movements and placed on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. Even angry, my hands refused to abandon the routine. The edges had to line up. The sleeves had to be smoothed. Leaving them in a messy pile would have made the static worse.
*The more the merrier.*
I turned the words over in my head. Then, before I could stop myself, I repeated them under my breath in a poor imitation of Alexander's annoyingly deep voice.
"…The more the merrier."
I frowned. That sentence had been perfectly reasonable. It was also becoming increasingly irritating. I couldn't understand why.
Bianca was my sister. She had asked permission. Alexander had answered politely. Nothing about the conversation had been inappropriate. Why did the image of her eyes lingering on his forearms and the open collar of his shirt keep coming back?
I yanked my soft sleep shirt over my head with more force than required, then immediately smoothed it down because the wrinkled fabric against my skin would have driven me insane. My fingers were already tapping a rapid rhythm against my thigh.
Alexander hadn't come upstairs.
That irritated me too.
Which made even less sense.
I picked up my toiletries and headed into the bathroom. The shower was already running when I heard the bedroom door open. Footsteps crossed the carpet, then the bathroom door opened a moment later.
I didn't turn around.
"Dashiell."
His voice was as calm as ever—the same calm voice he'd used downstairs.
I stepped into the shower and slid the glass door shut. It struck the frame with a sharper crack than I'd intended.
Silence. Only the rush of hot water.
Then…
"Are you locking me out of my own shower, little anomaly?"
I kept my back to him. "Yes."
A brief pause. "How fascinating." I could almost hear the corner of his mouth lifting. "You're annoyed with me."
I said nothing.
"I'll wait," he replied evenly. "When you're finished, you're going to tell me why." Another beat of silence. "And don't slam the door again," he said quietly. "You'll only hurt your hand."
I stayed beneath the hot water, jaw tight, pretending I hadn't heard him.