Daniel finally burst through the front door ten minutes late, his cheeks flushed from the wind, smelling of winter air, expensive cologne, and guilt.

The moment he shrugged off his coat, his eyes darted into the living room. He froze.

“Claire,” he called, walking slowly toward the dining room. “What the hell is that giant covered thing?”

I emerged from the kitchen with the last basket of bread. “I told Vanessa earlier,” I said pleasantly. “It’s the centerpiece for tonight’s gathering.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. He looked across the table at Vanessa.

I watched the micro-expression pass between them. Vanessa gave the smallest, almost imperceptible shake of her head. I don’t know what she’s doing, the gesture said.