Our son, Noah, was six.
Our daughter, Lily, was four.
Adrian’s mother, Evelyn, sat across from me.
His younger brother, Caleb, was near the end of the table.
And Vanessa stood beside my husband wearing a fitted dark-green dress and the expression of someone who had been told she was entering an awkward situation that had already been resolved.
It had not.
Adrian pulled out the chair beside his.
“Sit.”
Vanessa hesitated.
I watched her.
Not him.
That seemed to unsettle both of them.
