“I am coming.”

Helen’s shoes stop just short of the kitchen tile. Roman pulls out of me so fast I have to catch the sink. He tugs my dress down. I grab the platter with shaking hands and turn.

Helen smiles like nothing in this house is filthy.

“There it is. You two are a good team.”

Roman rinses his hands. I walk the platter past her with his slick still on my thighs. I do not look at him. I cannot. If I look I will give it away.

The rest of the afternoon is noise. Living room. Leftover pie. His son talking about a game. Roman sits in...