“Steve? When did Steve come back into the picture?”
“Oh, did I forget to tell you he didn’t actually ghost me?”
“Ah, yeah,” Kym replied, frowning as she leaned forward.
“I didn’t enter his number correctly in my phone,” Retta said.
“And?”
“And he asked me out again when I bumped into him, and I might take him up on his offer later.”
“But if you’re open to something with Steve, and he’s interested in you, why not take him to the wedding instead?” Kym asked.
“B-because I’ve already committed to Duncan.”
Kym wiped her hands on the napkin. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”
As Duncan pulled up to his mother’s house, a different sort of anxiety settled over him than usual. They were supposed to move his father’s belongings to his new home, but after what he saw days before, he wondered if this wasn’t actually a gathering where his parents would announce they’d decided to remain married.
Entering the house, he could hear his sister and father downstairs. A good sign. They were probably working through his father’s extensive library.
Moving through the kitchen to get to the basement, he found his mother still in her bonnet sitting at the kitchen island with an open book in front of her.
His dad happened to emerge from the basement at that moment carrying a basin full of papers. All three of them looked at one another for a moment before simultaneously opening their mouths to speak. But nothing came out.
“What’s going on?” Gwen said, following behind their dad up the stairs with a garbage bag slung over her shoulder. “Why is everyone being weird?”
“I was about to ask them whether or not the divorce is still happening,” Duncan said.
Gwen’s eyes widened as she looked between them. “Wait, what? Why wouldn’t—”
“I found Mom at Dad’s place.”
The bag his sister held dropped to the tiled floor with a soft thud. “Are you serious?”
His mother closed her book and got up from her seat. “Yes, of course the divorce is still happening.”
“Yeah?” Duncan asked skeptically, folding his arms.
“No, for real. I don’t want to be here in three weeks bringing back your stuff, Dad,” Gwen said.
His father released a robust laugh. “The divorce papers are drawn. Things are being settled. Trust us.”
Their mother nodded. “And I know you might interpret some things as signs that we won’t go through with it, but you have to understand your dad and I have known each other for so long that it’s sometimes easier to sleep with—”
“Nope,” Gwen said.
“We can end it right there,” Duncan said, squeezing past his father to get to the basement.
The conversation at least temporarily assuaged his fears of a divorce cancellation, and he settled in for the long chore of sorting and packing his father’s belongings.
An hour in, Duncan held up a decorative silver tray and said, “Dad.”
His father studied the item for a long time, and Duncan was about to put it in the “I don’t know” pile when he said, “It’s your mom’s.”
“Look what I found,” Gwen said from the other corner of the basement. She was seated cross-legged on the ground with a photo album in her lap.
Both he and his father approached and stood behind her.
