She called me on a Saturday morning and said she hoped we could “put the ugliness behind us” by having everyone over for dinner at her house.

“Julian would love to meet his brothers properly,” she said.

“And Brian thinks it would be healthy.”

“Have you spoken to Zachary and Nathan?”

“No, but they’re family.

Surely they can spare an evening.”

I heard the same assumption that had haunted our first marriage: because adults wanted a picture of unity, children were expected to provide it.

“They can decide whether they want dinner.