The Duplicate

Chapter Thirty-seven

I don't even know how I got to the dinning table or how I picked a chair. The second I drop onto a cushion, I'm knocked back to my senses.

Startled, I look at Aubrey.

Fixing Noah's plate at the end of the table, at his highchair, Aubrey slows to a stop and droops her head to the side. She frowns at me.

"Sorry." Stress, I'm sure, is slapped all over my face. I point down at the steak already on the plate in front of me. There's a slab of steak, I realize, on every plate around the table. "Should I sit here?"

Aubrey nods, distantly, thoughts elsewhere. "He's not eating with us, is he?"

I scoot my chair in. "He is."

Her mouth falls agape. "Really?"

"Really?" Leah's head snaps up. On the other side of the table, setting the last of the silverware, she frantically sizes up the room, does the math. If I'm sitting here, and if she sits over there, she has a fifty-fifty chance to sit—

"Leah," Aubrey says, "you can sit by Evette."

"But I like this side."

"Sure you do." Malcolm comes from the kitchen, carrying in a bowl of mashed potatoes. He shoots Leah a half-amused, half-stern glance. "Even though you always sit on the other side?"

Groaning, Leah clomps around the table. She jabs a finger at Malcolm as they breeze past each other. "Do not try to embarrass me, Dad, in front of everyone tonight."

"Hah. Whatever do you mean?" Standing over me, at the head of the table, Malcolm sets the bowl in the center, among the broccoli and rolls. His gaze turns down on my face, and he raises his eyebrows a few centimeters, wrinkling his forehead. He has cognac eyes. Kind. Intelligent. "You doing okay, scout? You're welcome to start fixing your plate."

"I'm fine. Thank you." I grab the serving spoon wedged in the potatoes and shovel on a heap.

Wriggling impatiently in the chair beside me, Leah huffs and pivots to examine the archway. "What's taking so long? Where are they?"

I pause. And we glimpse at one another, simultaneously.

She's right. They should be out here by now.

The pace of my breathing kicks up a notch. My heart gives one hard thud, pumping blood into my throat, into my temples.

What is he saying to Dax?

Leah purses her lips. "Well, I guess I could go check."

"Or," Malcolm says, still standing, pointing a roll at her before she can move, "you can sit tight and mind your own business. Ah, see?" He gestures towards the archway. "Here they come."

With a quick snap of her neck, she looks, expectantly. Her shoulders drop. She turns back to Malcolm, scowling. "Not funny, Dad."

"Now, here they come."

She falls for it again. Only this time, she nearly hops out of her chair. Eyes wide and agleam, she whirls back towards the table and does her best to focus on fixing her plate. But she can't, for the life of her, stop sneaking peeks.

Quickly, I busy myself with picking out a roll.

"Welcome." Malcolm smiles, gaze cast behind me.

"Everything smells great." Dax's voice comes from the right of me. He skirts around the table, on Aubrey's side. And, head to toe, she is glowing. As he makes his way past, she reaches out and gives Dax's hand a quick, subtle squeeze. He smiles back at her.