My attention catches on the empty hook beside it, the one where Leif’s jacket used to hang. Now it sits bare, a small negative space that shouldn’t register at all, but does.
Emily opens the wine bottle and passes it off to Jared before she returns to the stove to stir the marinara. “It’s almost ready. Just needs another minute.”
“Anything I can do?” I ask, the familiar question part of our Saturday ritual.
“Pour the wine?” Jared suggests, grabbing three glasses from the cabinet.
I busy myself while watching Emily and Jared orbit each other in the kitchen. They move in perfect synchronization, with no hesitation when their paths cross or awkward shuffle when they reach for the same drawer.
“Any news?” I pour the wine, the liquid catching the light from overhead.
Emily and Jared exchange a heavy look.
“Blake called today,” Emily says, pouring pasta into a colander already set up in the sink. “Leif’s joined the Wright Pack. The registration went through yesterday.”
Chloe had told me when they made the offer, but I wasn’t sure the Omega would take them up on it.
“That’s good, right?” I set the bottle on a cloth napkin to catch any drips. “Being part of a pack gives him protection.”
“It’s great,” Jared agrees, but the tension beneath the words says there’s more.
Emily adds pasta to plates, tops them with golden-brown chicken breasts smothered in cheese, and ladles marinara on top.
“It will be good for Quinn to have him close by.” She sets the plates on the table. “Not sure he’ll get much peace, though, now that he’s within walking distance.”
I take my seat, the chair legs scraping across the hardwood. “Have you seen him?”
“No,” Emily says, focusing on her plate.
“I see him in the morning and afternoon, on the boat crossings to take Quinn to school.” Jared passes the bread basket. “We don’t talk much, though.”
“Well, to Leif’s new beginning,” I say, raising my glass.
They lift theirs in return, a quiet clink in the warm kitchen.
“To new beginnings,” Emily echoes.
The chicken tastes as delicious as it smells, rich and spiced with rosemary and oregano. We eat in companionable silence for a while, the clink of forks on plates punctuated by occasional comments about the food or the weather.
“Carson’s resignation was accepted,” I say after a lull. “The board announced it in a special bulletin. They’re bringing in someone from Seattle to finish the school year.”
Emily’s shoulders relax a fraction. “Good. Quinn won’t have to deal with him ever again.”
“What about you?” Jared asks, tearing a piece of bread in half. “Any exciting new articles in the works?”
I swirl the wine in my glass as I tell them about the new piece that’s been occupying my mind.
As I speak, Emily reaches for her water glass, her shoulder brushing Jared’s with a casual intimacy that sends a pang of envy through me.
I’m happy for them, but their closeness highlights what I’m not a part of.
“You okay?” Jared asks, catching my expression.
I plaster on a smile. “Just thinking about a deadline coming up.”
Emily studies me over the rim of her glass, too perceptive to buy the excuse.
I take another bite of chicken to avoid elaborating. “This is amazing, by the way.”