In the kitchen

The guests have finally left. The house has returned to its Sunday night routine, but the energy is different. Chad is at the table, talking about the work on the car, feeling like he and Mike are best friends. He seems to have completely forgotten how badly he screwd up last night, though he sill won't look at Alexis. Alexis is watching her sister with an amused, narrowed gaze.

Cherie is at the stove, preparing a roast chicken. She moves with a newfound, almost giddy lightness.

You are right there with her. As she reaches for the heavy roasting pan, you assist with its weight. When she drops a sprig of rosemary, it "bounces" back into her hand. And when she bends over to take the chicken out of the oven, you playfully grab her butt. You keep her "spirits high," maintaining that edge of illicit excitement so she doesn't slip back into her shell.

I should be horrified. I should be packing my bags. But I feel... alive. Mike didn't tell him. He looked at me like I was a prize he was waiting to claim. And Mack... Mack is helping me. I'm making dinner for my husband while my—my ghost—holds my hand. And my butt! I don't know where this is all headed, but I feel like I've lived more this week than in the last five years!"