The Dinner Party

The spinach lay between her teeth like a dark secret, and Elena was too polite to mention it. That was the problem with their friendship—always too polite, always careful, never saying what needed to be said.

"You remember James, don't you?" Sarah asked, gesturing toward the man across the table.

Elena did remember James. She remembered how he'd smiled at her sister's wedding three years ago, how he'd promised to call, how he'd vanished like smoke. Now here he was, sipping wine and talking about his startup as if nothing had happened.

"Of course," Elena said, and took a long drink.

The dinner was perfect—too perfect. Sarah had spent days cooking, her usual meticulous self. The spinach salad was fresh, the salmon perfectly cooked. But beneath the surface, Elena could feel the tension humming like a live wire. Sarah knew. She had to know.

"James was just telling me about his new venture," Sarah said, her voice bright with something that might have been innocence. "He's calling it Fox Media. Clever, don't you think?"

Fox. The word hit Elena like a slap. Sarah's childhood nickname, the one James would have known if he'd truly been part of their circle, if he'd been the friend Sarah claimed he was. But Sarah's real nickname had been Rabbit. Fox was what Elena's sister called her—called Elena—after their mother's maiden name.

James hadn't disappeared. He'd transferred his affections to the more available sister.

Elena set down her glass. The room spun slightly, or maybe that was just her world tilting on its axis.

"Actually," Elena said, her voice steady, "I think I left something in my car."

"Don't go yet," James said, and for the first time, he really looked at her. Really *saw* her. His eyes widened with something that looked like horror, or maybe recognition. "Elena—"

"No, really," she said, standing up. "I should go."

Sarah caught her arm at the door. Her mouth opened, and for once, there was no spinach, no politeness—just the terrible truth they'd both been avoiding.

"I'm sorry," Sarah whispered. "I didn't know how to tell you."

Elena looked at her sister—her friend, her betrayer, her mirror—and saw the same hurt reflected back.

"You could have tried," Elena said, and walked out into the cold night.