Daryl pressed his palms against the counter and took a deep breath. "You invited neighbors over?"

Leah bit her lip. She was on the other side of the bar. In between them was a mountain of groceries, packed in white plastic bags, the tops of which she patted down as she answered, though they all bounced right back up. She was fussing. The way her mother did. "Yeah. The new neighbors. You saw the truck, a few days ago . . . I don't know, it seemed like the nice thing to do. And I wanted to, um, make something special, so I . . ." She waved a hand over the bounty. "I don't know, I guess it's been a while since I took my time in a grocery store." She tried to run her hand through her hair, remembered it was in a ponytail, dropped her arm. Her hand met the counter and tapped on it as she looked anxiously at her husband. "They'll be here at six."

"Six tonight?"

She flinched. "I know, I know it's short notice, I –" She tried to mess with her hair again, she brushed back what strands she could, she gritted her teeth and then was back to biting her lip, so out of order. On edge. That was dangerous. "I could cancel."

Daryl averted his eyes, cracked his neck. It was Friday. He'd been looking forward to coming home, having a little more beer than he should, spending some time with Sydney and Sydney and Leah and then finally, if things went okay, just Leah, and maybe feeling like a husband and wife should feel when they're alone together. Comfortable. Happy, even. God forbid.

It had been tough. Stiff. Since . . .

Leah didn't want to cancel. He could tell that much. And this wasn't something she had done out of societal expectation, no, she wouldn't offer their house to strangers just because it was what she was supposed to do. Not Leah.

"Why you wanna do this?"

"I . . ." She gazed through the archway to the living room. Daryl could hear Sydney babbling. "I just think . . . We've lived here for two years, Dixon, and we have no relationship with anyone in the neighborhood. It's not normal. And I think . . ." She swallowed. "I think I could really use some normalcy." Their eyes connected. "I think we both could."

Daryl cleared his throat.

"They have a baby boy," Leah added, softly. "Fourteen months old. It would be good for Sydney to be around another toddler. They have an older kid, too. He must be four or five. Maybe Sydney should spend time with someone that age too, I don't know, it's been a long time since I read up on those things. But I know for sure that socializing with anyone who isn't me or you or her grandparents will be good for her."

"You said you wanted normalcy," Daryl told the floor. For the first time in a while, he wanted a cigarette. "This ain't our normal."

Then came one of their pauses. Leah ended it. She sighed her heavy sigh, finally undid her ponytail, maybe just so she could rake her fingers through it, tangle it up, let it fall. Then she leaned forward on the counter, moving groceries out of the way, getting closer to him. She looked at him, hard in one way, soft in the other. Honest. "Do you like our normal?"

He couldn't look away. Not now. That would be losing. "Used to."

She nodded. Swallowed again. "Maybe it's time we try something different. Change our normal. Find a better one."

The idea itself didn't sound bad to Daryl. He'd changed his normal once before, after all, and it had turned out alright . . . until it led him here. But maybe they could get away from this, him and Leah. Get to something better. Things could change. Things always changed.

"Alright," he said. "Guess we can pretend we like people for a night."

That earned him a crooked smile. He could see her loosen up. Good. She was tense all the time, lately. Jumped when he walked into a room. Couldn't get Sydney to sleep. And two nights ago, when they had tried to have sex for the first time since – then, she couldn't do her part. And any time he touched her, kissing her or holding her or whatever, whether in bed, or before going to work, or after getting home, just – whenever, she was tight. Hard.

So, yeah. If he could relax her some, if these neighbors could . . . fine.

"You're gonna make me comb my hair, ain't ya?"

"Mm-hmm." She reached out and ran her hand through it. He caught her wrist and played with the ring on her finger.