He let me guide him to a chair at the corner of the table.
Mom continued with questions. "Alex, what do you drink with dinner? We have beer, wine, soda—"
"Water's fine."
"Nonsense." She waved dismissively. "Matthew, open that bottle of red."
"The good red or the cooking red?"
"Do I look like I'd serve a guest cooking wine?" Mom shot him a look that could wither plants.
Miles slid into the chair beside Alex. "So, history professor. That means you know all the good stuff they don't teach in schools, right? Like how many presidents were secretly drunk during important decisions, and which banged the help?"
Mom scolded him. "Miles!"
Alex laughed. "More than the textbooks admit, though probably fewer than conspiracy theorists claim."
"See? He's diplomatic." Marcus nodded approvingly. "Michael could learn from you."
I challenged him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Matthew helpfully provided a translation. "It means your idea of diplomacy is my way or I'll kick your ass."
"That's rich coming from the guy who once punched a ref at my high school game."
"He made a terrible call! Even Dad said so!"
"Alex, don't believe anything they tell you," Miles advised. "We're all upstanding citizens. Especially me."
Alex tried to answer three questions at once—about his teaching, his research, and his opinion on some historical comparisons Miles made. His eyes darted from one brother to the next as they talked over each other.
"—but the Renaissance wasn't actually—"
"—reminds me of when Michael tried to—"
"—please pass the—"
"—no way that's historically accurate—"
I watched as Alex's initial tension melted away. He laughed, full-throated, at some ridiculous story Miles told while gesturing wildly with his hands.
Mom nudged me. "Michael, eat before it gets cold."
I nodded, unable to form words around the lump in my throat. It was the everyday life I'd been avoiding since returning from Tahiti. Watching Alex ease into my family's free-for-all, I wondered whether I'd been wrong to stay away.
Leave it to Marcus to disrupt the happy energy. "So, nobody's going to mention the elephant in the room?"
My shoulders tensed.
"Marcus." Mom's tone was a warning.
"What? I'm only saying—Michael disappears for weeks, ignores our calls, and then shows up with a guest. We're supposed to pretend everything's normal?"
The table fell silent except for the scrape of silverware. Alex studied his plate with sudden interest.
I opened my mouth, but my voice snagged in my throat. For a terrifying second, I thought I wouldn't be able to speak at all.
Finally, I forced out the only thing that came to mind. "I needed time."
