The smell of roasted turkey and candle wax drifts through the front door before you even open it.
Tatum's fingers lace through yours - warm, steady. She squeezes once, and you squeeze back.
Then the door swings open and Theresa's voice fills the entryway, bright and completely unaware. Behind her on the couch, wine glass half-raised and going nowhere, is Marlee.
Four months since the breakup. Two months since she started showing up in your sister's texts. And now she's here, in the same room, watching you walk in with someone new.
Theresa is already talking about the seating chart. Tatum is already reading the room. And Marlee hasn't looked away yet.
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