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He looks at Heather before getting to his feet, and then walks toward us.

Juney pulls me half a step farther onto the porch. “What’s your name?” she asks him.

“Simon.” He stops inside the doorway. His shoulders nearly fill the space beside me.

Juney searches his face. “Do you live here too?”

Simon looks past me at the street. Her car sits at the curb with the driver’s door unlocked and a canvas bag full of flyers on the passenger seat.

“For now,” he says.

Juney lets go of my hand and reaches into her coat. She takes out her phone. “Do you need to call someone?” She holds it toward Simon. “You can use mine.”

Simon looks at the screen. “No.”

“I know your face.” Juney watches him. “The woman at the restaurant is looking for you. Mara.”

“Probably is,” Simon says.

“I have a car.” Juney points toward the curb. “I can take you anywhere.”

“You going?” Simon asks me.

Juney looks between us.

“I haven’t decided,” I say.

“You always take too fucking long.” Simon comes close enough that cold air moves through the open neck of his shirt.

Juney extends the phone again.

Simon looks down at it. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Juney’s eyes shift back to Jamie. “None of you do.”

Simon turns away from the porch. He passes Heather without waiting for permission and goes into the kitchen. A cabinet opens, followed by the sound of a pan being moved.

Juney stares after him. “What the hell is happening in this house?”

“Dinner ended badly,” Jamie says.

“The dessert was fine,” Simon calls from the kitchen.

Jamie looks at Juney. “He’s sensitive about food.”

Juney turns on me. “Come outside.”

“I am outside.”

“Farther.” She catches my sleeve and pulls me across the porch. “Away from them.”

I let her take me down the first step.

Heather watches without moving. Jamie stands beside her, and Simon has returned to the living room. Nothing prevents either of them from following me.

Juney brings me to the edge of the porch and lowers her voice. “Get in my car.”

Juney is waiting for one version of the last two months, and Heather is waiting to see which version I give. Nobody’s handed me my lines.