It’s a golden afternoon near the end of July and I head back to the flat for whatever sports event Chase has lined up for us to watch, but as I approach the door, I see that it’s ajar. Alex’s voice cuts through the air. She must have gotten off work early. For a second I feel put out, as if she’s muscled in on something that was mine. I go to push open the door but stop, my head by the gap in the jamb.

“It’s nothing,” I hear my sister say. “I don’t know why you’re so upset about it.”

“Alex,” Chase says, then there’s a thump of something being set down heavily. “I never see you. You’re always at work. And now I hear this. What am I supposed to think?”

“Sully’s a friend. I meet him for coffee. We talk about work stuff.” I know that tone. It’s a metronome steadiness before a boom. If she were a bomb, she’d be ticking.

“He’s just a friend? That you meet every day?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Did your little spy run home and tell you that? Leave it to my sister to paint me as untrustworthy. The irony is ridiculous. Meanwhile, you two are here all the time, cozying up, choosing baby names, swapping tales of how I’m cheating on you.”

“It wasn’t Ruth. She didn’t mention him.”

“Oh, spare me.”

I rest my forehead onto the wood of the front door, but it sways inward and creaks ever so slightly. Chase and Alex both turn.

“Oh, look!” Alex throws up her hands. “Speak of the devil.”

I take a wary step into the apartment. The atmosphere is thick, like liquid, like tar.

“What were you talking about?” I ask.

“You heard every single word, so I don’t know why you’re asking.” Alex picks up her bag from the couch.

“Where are you going?” Chase demands.

“Out. To see my ‘boyfriend.’ The one I see every day. Right, Ruth?” She pushes past me, actually banging my shoulder.

Chase stands there, rubbing the stubble on his chin as her footsteps clatter down the stairwell. It’s only once we hear the door of the main entrance swing shut that he speaks.

“Did you really hear every single word?”

“I heard some of them.” I step into the loft and close the door behind me. “Most of them. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about that. We don’t usually fight. I don’t know what to do.” He starts toward the bay window kicking a packet of diapers and a fleece blanket out of his path. “She’s tough. You know? And it’s busy in here.”

“She’s a slippery fish.”

“That’s funny. She says the same thing about you.”

I bet she does.