The metal chair scraped against the concrete with a sound that went straight to my back teeth. Daniel sat at the green table, his gold watch catching the low morning light while the pool pump hummed its steady, heavy rhythm in the corner of the yard.
“The kettle was whistling five minutes ago,” he said, his eyes remaining on his tablet.
I set the tray down between us. The ceramic mug was warm, but the tea had already begun to skin over in the dry morning air. My fingers went to my left hand, slowly rolling my wedding band around my ring finger.
“The girls were waking up,” I said, pausing before I spoke his name. “Daniel.”
He finally looked at the cup. He reached out, tapped the rim with his fingernail, and then looked at his gold watch. His index finger tapped the glass face twice.
“It is lukewarm, Elena.”
“I can reheat it,” I said, reaching for the handle.
He did not let go of the tray. He stood up, his tall frame blocking the thin yellow light from the east wall, and took my wrist. His grip was broad and dry, and when he pulled me toward the brick step, my sleeve caught. A cheap silver bracelet Madison had made for me last week snagged on the corner of the metal chair, the thin thread stretching until the metal links groaned.
“You are always rushing,” he said, his voice flat and professional, the tone he used with city planners. “Pay attention to what you are doing.”
He let go, and I stumbled back an inch, my shoe catching the edge of the rise.
The kitchen door was open behind us, the smell of toast drifting out into the yard.
Inside, the television was already playing a loud cartoon upstairs, the muffled voices of Madison and Chloe filtering down through the ceiling. Patricia stood at the sink, her silver rosary beads dangling from her apron pocket, clicking against her hip as she shifted her weight.
“The girls need to eat before the bus comes,” Patricia whispered, her eyes fixed on the soapy water.
