But over the last several weeks, Ryan had developed a habit of going quiet whenever Lily's name came up, and Lily had started leaving family gatherings earlier than usual. Once, when Ava mentioned that Lily might come over to watch a movie, Ryan said he had paperwork to finish upstairs and disappeared before Lily arrived. At the time, Ava had assumed the two of them had argued. She had even asked Lily about it. "Did something happen between you and Ryan?"
Lily had nearly dropped the mug she was holding. "What? No. Why?" "You two are weird lately."
"We're not weird." "You are absolutely weird." Lily laughed then, too loudly, and said Ryan had been stressed. Ava let it go. That memory returned now with enough force that she could almost feel the ceramic mug in Lily's hands.
Ava looked at her sister's untouched wine. Then at the hand Lily had once again placed over her stomach. Then at Ryan, who seemed intensely interested in the edge of his plate. The room remained beautiful around them. Candlelight trembled against crystal.
Rain whispered at the windows. Somewhere in the kitchen, the refrigerator hummed with the indifferent steadiness of an appliance that did not care what happened inside a family. Ava's voice changed before she consciously decided to change it. "Lily," she said, "what's going on?" Lily's eyes lifted.
They were already shining. "Nothing." "Don't do that." "Do what?" "Tell me nothing when you're sitting there looking like you're about to cry."
Ryan put his fork down. "Ava." She did not look at him. "Stay out of it." The words surprised all three of them.
Ava rarely spoke to Ryan that way. Their arguments, when they had them, were usually controlled things: missed appointments, money spent without discussion, whose turn it was to call the plumber. Even during the painful months of trying to conceive, they had been careful with each other. Ava had believed that carefulness was evidence of love. Lily wiped her palms on the napkin in her lap.
"I didn't want to do this tonight." Ava stared at her. "Do what?" "I just wanted to have dinner." "Then have dinner.
But you're acting like someone died." Lily flinched. Ryan looked at her. Ava caught the look this time. It lasted less than a second, but it was intimate in a way that frightened her.
Not affectionate. Not romantic. Worse. It was the look two people exchange when they share information that a third person does not have. Ava's heartbeat changed.
She leaned back slightly in her chair and looked from one to the other. "What do you both know?" Ryan's face hardened. "Nothing." "That wasn't a question for you."
"You're making this into something it's not." "Am I?" Lily whispered, "Please." Ava turned to her. "Please what?"
Lily's mouth opened, then closed. The chandelier light caught the faint shimmer of tears at the lower edge of her eyes. For one strange second, Ava's anger softened into fear. She thought of illness. A test result.
Some hidden crisis Lily had been too ashamed to admit. The protectiveness Ava had felt toward her younger sister since childhood rose automatically, cutting through suspicion. "Lily," she said more gently, "if something's wrong, tell me. Whatever it is." Lily looked at Ryan.