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“I know. I mean married married.”
Colt turns off the burner. “That cleared up nothing.”
“You know where his food goes. She knows when you’re lying about your shoulder. Nobody fights about dishes anymore. Lina’s parents are like that and it’s gross.”
My eyes go to her. She takes a bite and keeps chewing.
Colt recovers first. “That sounded dangerously observant.”
“I live here.”
She reaches for the salsa. Colt holds it out to her before she asks, and one of her eyebrows rises.
He puts the jar down. “Eat your dinner.”
She smiles into her plate. The lime on my fingers finds a small cut beside my thumbnail. I rub my thumb against it and reach for my fork.
Dinner keeps moving. Tova tells us Mormor has already found two Midsummer flights, both of which she considers unacceptable.
“One leaves before six in the morning, and the other has a four-hour connection in Newark. Mormor said four hours is fine because I can eat. I told her nobody eats for four hours. Not even Colt.”
She says I and not we. She has been doing it since Tuesday, smoothly, the way a person does a thing they have been practicing.
I let her have it.
Tova bends to get her napkin off the floor. While she is down there, Colt steals one of her peppers.
She comes back up and stares at the empty place on her plate. “You’re a criminal.”
“No proof.”
“You’re chewing it.”
“Circumstantial.”
She turns to me for judgment, and I take a drink of water.
“I am staying out of this.”
Colt presses a hand to his chest. “Betrayal.”
“Marriage.”
Tova makes a noise into her glass and keeps eating.
“What time is practice tomorrow?” she asks.
“Ten.”
“So you’re here for breakfast?”
Colt leans back in his chair. “That depends. Is somebody making breakfast?”
“No.”
He turns to me. “Nilsson?”
“I am also not making your breakfast.”
