Maybe his mother had kept her promise.
Marcus shut off the engine.
He grabbed his bag and walked toward the house.
But the moment he opened the front door, something felt wrong.
Not obviously wrong.
Not enough to explain.
Just… wrong.
The living room was full.
His mother was sitting comfortably on the largest couch.
His sister was stretched out beside her.
His brother had his feet on the coffee table.
His cousin was leaning back in an armchair.
Two aunts were talking over one another.
Someone had opened another bottle of wine.
The television was playing loudly.
Nobody noticed Marcus at first.
Nobody got up.
Nobody even asked how his day had been.
Marcus stood there for a second, waiting for someone to see him.
Finally his brother glanced over.
“Hey, man.”
“Hey.”
“Long day?”
Marcus nodded.
“Very.”
His mother turned around.
“There you are!”
She smiled brightly.
“We were wondering when you were coming home.”
Marcus smiled back automatically.
“Traffic.”
His mother waved toward the kitchen.
“Elena’s in there. She insisted on cleaning everything up.”
Marcus frowned.
“Cleaning what up?”
“Dinner.”
His mother laughed.
“You know Elena. She wouldn’t let anyone else do it.”
Marcus looked toward the kitchen.
