One evening, Hannah cooked a beautiful meal, filling the table with candles and laughter. Isabel sat across from her, trying to eat, trying to act normal. Liam sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his thigh against hers.

Halfway through dinner, his hand slid under the table. Isabel’s breath caught as his palm settled high on her thigh, hidden beneath the fabric of her dress.

Her fork stilled.

Hannah laughed at something and never noticed.

Isabel bit her lip, ...