“Walk, Callie.”

Roman says it once. I walk.

The kitchen is bright and stupid after that table. Plates stacked. Roast pan cooling. Helen’s voice already in the living room with the others. I go to the sink because that is what I am supposed to do. He comes in behind me and the door stays wide open.

“Dress stays up,” he says.

“Someone will come.”

“Then you keep your mouth useful.”

His hands are on my hips. He bunches the dress to my waist and looks down. The panties are a wreck from lunch. He hooks them aside the same way he did under the table and presses the head...