Winter stood in the kitchen, watching Marianne move effortlessly as she prepared dinner. The party had ended about an hour ago, and now they wanted to eat something before going to bed.

The aroma of simmering sauce filled the air, but Winter’s thoughts were elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about Michael and the other guy she had seen him with.

“Anne…” she called softly.

“Hmm?” Marianne replied, not taking her eyes off the task at hand.

“You and that guy... I mean, the celebrant. You both seem close,” Winter said, trying to sound casual, though her words came out more pointed than she intended.

Marianne’s hands paused briefly, the knife...