This situation wasn’t…a strange feeling resonated in Victor’s chest…it wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be. The original plan had been to decamp to the hotel after throwing out the bomb of his existence and identity. But neither his name nor his and Dawn’s history had come up at lunch somehow.

It was as if he’d lit a stick of dynamite, and for reasons unknown to him, it was still burning, refusing to ignite.

“I have to watch this 80’s Czech stop-motion film for class on Monday. Want to join?” Dawn asked after she was finished with the dishes.

A million answers ran through Victor’s head. But in the end, he signed, “OK.”

The movie was a wildly strange retelling of Alice in Wonderland, but not as horrible as he thought it might be. He rarely took the time to enjoy entertainment. So it felt nice to be diverted for an hour or so.

His enjoyment certainly had nothing to do with being reminded of when they were in high school, and Dawn would come over with a DVD of some obscure anime that she insisted they just had to watch.

But just in case, when the film was done, he retreated to the kitchen where he could be alone. There he returned business texts and emails for the rest of the afternoon.

Mostly with Han and Phantom. As poorly as his conversation with Nora had ended, it turned out she was right. Moreover, according to Phantom, two or three of their businesses were in a ripe position to be exploded into global brands with the right infusion of cash.

Victor let himself get lost in work until Dawn, and her mother suddenly came through the kitchen door, their arms filled with bags of groceries.

He frowned. He hadn’t even heard them leave. Much less go to the grocery store.

Dawn wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t allowed it. Yet, it felt as if he were quickly losing control of the situation.

“Dawn told me that you prefer more liquid things, and Cal-Mart was having a sale on their shabu shabu sets. So we’re going to make you the Korean hot pot recipe I made up when we were in Japan.”

As much as Dawn and her mother had sniped at each other over lunch, they worked seamlessly together in the kitchen. And they were right about his liking the hot pot. The broth they made was rich and spicy with just the right amount of umami flavor.

He quietly savored the meal as he listened to Dawn’s and her mother’s conversation.

They mainly talked about her mother—not tomorrow’s surgery, but the mundane day-to-day details of a life filled with church and gardening. They also talked about the winter weather in Texas compared to Rhode Island and whether Byron would ever settle down and get married.