PART 1 — THE DISH
Ten years married. Two children. I would have put my hand in a fire for Callan Wick.
My sister Sasha had been putting her hand in the fire for him since 2016.
At least, that was what I believed at the time.
She used to say things like, “How did you end up with somebody like Callan? I’m jealous. I want one.”
Always with a laugh at the end.
Always just enough laughter to make objecting look ridiculous.
If I frowned, she would grin.
If I told her to stop, she’d throw her hands up.
“Oh, Bryony. I’m joking.”
And because she was my sister, I kept giving her the benefit of the doubt.
I wish I hadn’t.
When she married Bram Prewitt in the September before last, I was relieved.
Bram was a good man.
Quiet.
Patient.
The sort of man who remembered what tea you drank and whether you liked the crusts cut off your sandwiches.
He wasn’t flashy. He didn’t dominate a room. He didn’t need everyone to notice him.
Most importantly, he was completely mad about Sasha.
I thought she had finally found something of her own.
Something that wasn’t mine.
Something she couldn’t compare herself to.For the first time in years, I stopped worrying about the way she looked at my husband.
Then came their anniversary weekend.
We drove over on Friday afternoon.
Dinner that evening.
A garden party on Saturday.
Thirty people expected.
Family everywhere.
Music.
Children.
Food.
Drinks.
The sort of weekend that was supposed to become one of those family memories people talked about for years.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.
That was what I thought.
At dinner, Callan pulled Sasha’s chair out for her.
He did that for everybody.
He was polite like that.
Sasha sat down.
She looked at him.
Then she smiled.
“If I’d met you first,” she said, “I’d have picked differently.”
I had a mouthful of water and nearly choked.
Bram went scarlet.
Callan laughed.
I looked at him.
I waited.
I wanted him to say something that made it clear there was a line.
Instead, he smiled into his glass.
“Sasha,” I said quietly.
She turned toward me.
“What?”
“Don’t.”
She laughed.
“Oh, relax. You know I’m joking.”
But she wasn’t joking.
Not really.
She spent the entire evening at his elbow.
