Zero stops chewing.
Bane's hand has gone very still on the rim of his plate. He looks down at it. Looks up at Margot. Looks down again.
"...she made a corn pudding."
Margot waits.
"It wasn't—it wasn't anything fancy. Cream-style corn from a can, mostly. A box of cornbread mix. Sour cream. Two eggs. She'd put it in the oven for an hour and the top would get this—" his voice has gone slightly hoarse and he clears his throat "—it would get this brown crust on it. She'd cover it with foil if Dad was in a mood about anything."
Margot's eyes are wet at the corners. My chest warms seeing how open he’s being.
"That sounds wonderful, sweetheart."
"It wasn't fancy."
"I don't want fancy. I want hers. And I want something you boys will like."
Bane swallows.
"...I think Atlas has the recipe somewhere. She wrote it on the back of an envelope. I think he kept it in a book."
"I'll ask him when he's back."
Bane clears his throat again. "...thank you, Margot."
"Don't thank me, sweetheart. I've been wanting to ask for a while and I lost my nerve about it more times than I want to admit."
Bane nods. Goes back to his sandwich. He doesn't look up for a beat. I think he’s trying to maintain his cool in front of my mom and I can’t help but smile.
Zero’s been silent, but purposefully silent. Like he can’t find the words or maybe doesn’t want to find them. He puts his apple slice down and reaches across the island and touches Bane's wrist, briefly, the way you touch a thing you don't want to draw attention to but you do, in fact, want to touch.
Bane breathes out.
I wish I could go to him too. Press a kiss to his neck and hold him tight.
"What else, then? I was thinking green beans, or maybe roasted carrots. Something that isn't too heavy with the roast and the pudding."
"Almonds are good," Bane says, to his plate. "With the green beans."
"Mm-hm," I say.
"Almonds it is," Margot says. The conversation is back. "Green beans with the almonds. The corn pudding. The roast. We'll figure out a dessert later. I want everyone to have a thing."
"Actually, Wren likes a lemon tart," I offer, because it is the only true thing about Wren I can produce on short notice on account of my brains being so scrambled by my ridiculously cruel stepbrothers.
"Lemon tart it is."
"I make a decent one," Bane says.
"You do not." Margot’s eyes go wide as she leans over the island.
Bane puts his hand over his chest, his mouth agape. "Margot. I am wounded."
Zero snorts. "Don’t believe him. He buys one from that bakery on Sixth and tells people he makes it."
Margot nods her head with an easy smile. “Well if I’m not making it then I don’t care where it comes from. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
Bane's phone buzzes on the counter.
