“Antonia.” She shakes his hand firmly.
Amy hugs her again. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Ivan gently peels Amy away.
Oliver strolls up next with the swagger only a teenage boy can manage. “Hi. I’m Oliver. The oldest son.”
Antonia laughs.
Amy glares at him. “Ollie, don’t be a twat.”
He shrugs, gives Antonia a quick hug, then collapses back onto the sofa.
Liam approaches next and reaches out his hand. “Hi.”
Antonia shakes it gently. Something twists painfully inside my chest. This feels strange.
Antonia looks over my shoulder; her gaze falling on Savannah, who is still sitting on the sofa, controller in her hands, but the avatar’s not moving. Her eyes are fixed on our reflection on the screen. Savannah’s face stiffens when she realizes we’ve noticed her watching.
Antonia shifts beside me. I turn back to her and offer a small, reassuring smile. It’s meant to say it’s fine. I’m not sure it convinces her.
I should probably call Savannah over, but she is my most explosive child, and today is already difficult enough. So, I leave it.
Amy claps her hands. “Dinner in five minutes.”
Everyone drifts toward the dining table, shuffling chairs and deciding who sits where. Savannah slides into the chair beside mine. I move one place down. Antonia takes the seat between us.
She needs to be close to me tonight. I know she’s struggling. And right now, she’s walking straight into the snake pit—even if there’s only one snake. I’ve seen my daughter bite before.
Amy brings plate after plate of food from the kitchen, setting them down between us. The room fills with the usual small talk about the weather, what the kids did at school this week, who forgot their homework, who got detention.
Then Savannah’s phone rings—loud and unbearable—it cuts straight through the conversation.
“It’s Rose,” she says, already answering the video call.
Her sister’s face appears on the screen, bright and animated. “Hey. How’s everyone?”
“Good,” Savannah says flatly. “Dad’s girlfriend’s here.”
The words are short, snappy, and she makes no effort to hide her disdain. Antonia pulls at the paper napkin on her lap, small pieces breaking off and falling onto the floor.
From the phone comes a shriek. “Oh! Put me on to her. Put me on to her. Put me on to her.”
Savannah sighs, then passes the phone to Antonia without even looking at her. I don’t miss my daughter’s territorial edge. Dismissive eyes land on me, narrowing to slits. I won’t bite—yet.
Antonia leans back slightly, like she’s a little taken aback by the blonde, blue-eyed vision of Rose in a bikini, a full face of makeup, sunshine blazing somewhere behind her.
“Hi,” Rose screeches. “I’m Rose. I’m the nice child.”
Antonia laughs out loud, and the tension around the table immediately softens.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Rose continues. “Well, there, not here, because I’m here and you’re there.”
Her chatter begins at once. Antonia doesn’t even need to speak. I watch from the sidelines as my daughter, half-way across the world, makes an effort while the daughter in the room does anything but. She asks about Opengate, and then turns immediately to teasing me.
“My dad.” Rose’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline. “You must be a saint putting up with him. He’s so old and grumpy.”
Antonia laughs again, clearly relaxing, adding the occasional word to keep the conversation flowing while Rose talks enough for three people. Eventually, the call cuts before Rose has spoken to no one else. Antonia hands Savannah back her phone, cheeks flushed pink.