And — she gave him this much credit, and it mattered — he did not ask her for another chance as a husband.

He seemed to understand that door was closed, and that trying to pry at it would only cost him the other one, the one Owen had left open an inch.

On Saturday morning, he showed up on time. He brought a plain chessboard and a strategy book, which Owen eyed with open scorn. Owen beat him in twenty-seven minutes.

“I warned you,” Owen said, with the smallest possible grin. “Again,” said Jason.

They played three games and Jason lost all three, and he did not once let Owen see him bored or frustrated or checking his phone.

Zoe sat on the floor nearby drawing, half-watching.