Delilah stayed with me, rolling up her sleeves as she started loading the dishwasher. Plates slid into place, glasses clinked softly into the racks, cutlery scattered neatly into the tray. We worked side by side in comfortable silence, the kind that didn't need filling.
When the last dish was in, I closed the door and pressed the button. The machine hummed to life.
Delilah wiped her hands together. "I'll go talk to Minne."
"Thanks," I said, meeting her eyes.
She nodded once and headed down the hall.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my cigarette pack, and tapped one free. I lit it, the flame briefly reflecting in the stainless steel before I snapped the lighter shut. Grabbing an ashtray from the counter, I walked back into the living room.
There was an empty spot on the double couch, right next to Kayla.
