“No.”

“Do I belong to her.”

Lena answered that. “You never did.”

“Then I am the right kind of mistake.”

Owen’s jaw tightened, then loosened. He stood and began to clear plates though they were not done. His hands were steady. Lena rose to help and he shook his head once. So she sat. Jude watched Owen move in his own kitchen and did not offer to help either. The two men had that in common suddenly: they would not pretend this was ordinary hospitality.

When the plates were in the sink, Owen washed his hands and dried them on the gray towel. He looked at Lena.

“Upstairs,” he said....