My eyes land on the leftover salmon from last night, and I pull the Pyrex container out, removing the lid before placing it in the microwave, the kitchen quickly filling with the smell of spices mixing in the air. It’s too late for lunch, so I’ll call it an early dinner, which means it’s entirely within my rights to enjoy a glass of that cabernet that paired so well with it last night. I walk over to the wine cabinet and retrieve a glass, pouring the ruby red liquid to the brim and taking a long drink before dumping the rest of the bottle into the glass and then tossing it into the recycling bin.
Before I can pull out my barstool, there’s a knock at the door—a loud, closed-fist pounding that sends my hand to my chest—followed by a familiar voice.
“Chlo, it’s me. I’m comin’ in.”
I hear the sound of a key in the lock, a quiet clicking as the latch slips out of place. I watch the doorknob begin to turn when I remember the alarm.
“No, wait!” I yell, jogging to the door. “Coop, don’t come in. Hang on a second.”
I reach the keypad and punch in the code just before the door swings open; when it does, I turn to face the porch, my brother’s surprised eyes staring in my direction.
“You got an alarm?” he asks, his feet planted on the Welcome! mat, a bottle of wine clutched in his hand. “If you wanted your key back, you could have just asked.”
“Very funny.” I smile. “You’re going to have to start giving me a heads-up when you’re coming over. This thing will call the cops on you.”
I tap the keypad and gesture for him to come inside, walking back to the island and leaning against the cool marble.
“And if you try to break in, I’ll see you on my phone.”
I lift up my cell phone and wiggle it in the air before pointing at the camera in the corner.
“Is that actually recording?” he asks.
“Sure is.”
I open up the security app on my phone and turn it around so Cooper can see; he’s standing in the center of my cell phone screen.
“Huh,” he says, turning back around and waving into the camera. He looks back at me and grins.
“Besides,” I say. “As much as I love your visits, I’m not the only one who lives here now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cooper says, taking a seat on the edge of a stool. “Speaking of which, where is your fiancé?”
“Traveling,” I say. “For work.”
“Over the weekend?”
“He works a lot.”
“Hm,” Cooper says, twirling his bottle of merlot on the table. The liquid glistens under the kitchen lights, casting bloodred shadows across the wall.
“Cooper, don’t,” I say. “Not now.”
“I didn’t.”
“But you were about to.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asks, the words pressed and urgent, like if he didn’t speak them now, they would come ripping out on their own. “How often he’s gone? I mean, I don’t know, Chlo. I always pictured you with someone who was around to keep you feeling safe. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve that. Someone present.”
“Daniel is present,” I say, reaching for my wineglass and taking a deep drink. “He keeps me feeling safe.”
“So, what’s the alarm for?”
I think about how to respond to that, my fingernails tapping against the grooved glass.
“It was his idea,” I say at last. “See? Keeping me safe, even when he’s not here.”
“All right, whatever,” Cooper says, standing from the barstool with a sigh. He walks over to the cabinet and grabs a corkscrew, twisting the cork from his own bottle. Even though I know it’s coming, the pop makes me jump. “Anyway, I was going to suggest we drink, but it looks like you’ve already gotten started.”
“Why are you here, Cooper? Are you here to argue with me again?”
“No, I’m here because you’re my sister,” he says. “I’m here because I’m worried about you. I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”
“Well, I’m fine,” I say, raising my arms in a shrug. “I don’t really know what to tell you.”
“How are you dealing with all this?”
“With what, Cooper?”
“Come on,” he says. “You know.”
I sigh, my eyes flickering over to the empty living room, to the couch that suddenly seems so comfortable, so inviting. I let my shoulders slouch a little; they’re so tight. I’m tight.