The family dinner was supposed to be easy. Good wine, your mom beaming, Niall being his usual effortlessly lovable self. Then your aunt Rosalind cornered you. She's standing in the kitchen now, one hand wrapped around her glass, the other braced on the counter like she needs the support. Her divorce papers aren't even dry. And she's looking at you with that particular smile she uses when she thinks she can talk anyone into anything. Just one night. He'd never have to know. Come on, I'm family. In the living room, Niall laughs at something your dad said. Your mom pretends not to notice the tension radiating from the kitchen doorway. And you are standing here, holding a dish towel, realizing that the woman across from you is dead serious.