Kate tries to smile but she can tell it’s crooked, sharp. She chews the gummy, looking at him. His hair’s too long, she thinks. “I am going to make this happen, Josh.”

“Maddie?” Quinn has to get the chicken fingers out of the toaster oven and shower and get the corn cooked. They only lasted an hour at the foundry; it was too cold. They didn’t see a single bird. At home, Maddie sat on the couch and read and Quinn scrolled dejectedly again through her mother’s Facebook page. Under every single picture of the new house was the same comment from stupid Sue from church: Huge Congrats!!

“Maddie,” she says, louder. She walks down the hall into her daughter’s room and finds her reading under the covers in a bundle on her bed. “Maddie?”

“Yeah?” Maddie still doesn’t look up. As Quinn watches she turns a page.

“What the fuck?” Quinn says. “You have to answer. When I say your name, you have to answer me.”

Maddie laughs. “You said ‘fuck.’”

“You have to answer me,” Quinn says again. “It’s dinnertime. Come eat.”

Maddie’s detached and quiet as she often is after hours of reading, and Quinn thinks she won’t miss her at all if she leaves.

“I’m going to go out a little,” she says. She feels immediately sad about it, but also, immediate relief.

“What do you mean, ‘go out’?” Maddie’s more present, her voice forceful, suddenly.

“I just have some things I need to take care of.” She’s going to the bar, half an hour, one beer, nothing—a four-minute walk, and she walks fast. She can’t quite say she’s going to get Maddie more presents, to pick up a few extra things for Christmas, but she hopes that’s what she thinks.

Maddie looks down, and Quinn feels sorry, almost hugs her. “You can stay up as late as you want reading. Watch a show on your phone if you want to.”

“I like you being here.”

“One or two shows and I’ll be back to snuggle you and read,” Quinn says. She feels a little sick again—her stomach shifts and roils—but she smiles at Maddie, grabs hold of her, and kisses her, eyes angled toward her feet.