Page 156

“He likes it there,” Jamie says.

“You like him there.”

Oliver reaches the end of the page. His voice stops, but he doesn’t close the book.

“Continue,” I tell him.

“You only marked one page.”

“I want another.”

He turns the page and reads without asking which paragraph I want. The book is beneath him on every possible level, but he gives it the same voice he used for Browning because I like what his mouth does to sentences.

Simon comes into the living room carrying four bowls. Steam rises above something covered in cinnamon and cream.

He sets mine down first.

“What is it?” Jamie asks. He reaches for the nearest bowl.

Simon moves it out of range. “Not yours.”

I taste mine. The fruit is hot beneath the cream, and the crust breaks cleanly under the spoon.

Simon watches my mouth. The knife is still in his hand.

“Better,” I say.

He places a bowl in front of Jamie. “Now it’s yours.”

Simon gives Oliver the third and lowers himself to the rug with the last bowl. He sits beside my legs.

The knife lies across his thigh.

Oliver keeps reading while Jamie eats. Simon waits until Oliver reaches the end of a sentence before tapping the blade against the table.

“Give me the stone.”

“The one you called useless?” I ask.

“It’s good enough for tonight.”

I get it from the cabinet beside the sofa and place it in his open hand. Simon sets his empty bowl aside and begins working the edge while Oliver reads.

The scrape of metal against stone fits between the sentences. Simon finishes sharpening the knife. He wipes the blade with the cloth and offers it to me handle-first.

“Keep it in the kitchen,” I say.

Simon looks down at the knife. He tests its weight once, then sets it on the coffee table between all four of us.

Jamie’s hand rests over the key at his throat. Oliver continues reading. I put one hand in Jamie’s hair and rest my feet against Simon’s thigh. Oliver reads another page without being told.

This is what I wanted. Three is best. I knew it would be.

Someone knocks on the front door.

Oliver stops reading. Simon’s hand moves to the knife, and Jamie closes his fingers around the key.

They look at me.