Chapter 4: Dinner With the Enemy
The restaurant Marcus chose was the kind of place where the menus had no prices.
Ivan wore a jacket Jessi's assistant had delivered to his apartment that morning, still in the dry-cleaning bag.
Fiona had watched him button it up from the doorway of her room.
"You look different, Dad."
"Good different or bad different?"
She thought about it.
"Like someone in a movie."
He'd kissed the top of her head and told her Mrs.
Papadopoulos next door would stay until he got back.
Jessi was waiting outside the restaurant when his cab pulled up.
She was in a dark navy dress, her posture perfect, nothing in her face that suggested anything other than complete control.
She took his arm when he reached her.
"He'll be watching how we touch," she said quietly.
"Don't pull away."
"I wasn't going to."
"And don't agree with everything I say.
It'll look rehearsed."
"Anything else?"
"His wife's name is Diane.
She's not involved in any of this.
Be kind to her."
They went inside.
Marcus was already seated.
Diane Sterling was a soft-spoken woman in her early fifties with careful eyes that took in everything and gave nothing back.
She stood when they approached, and her handshake was warm.
"Ivan.
I've heard so much about you."
"Good things, I hope."
"Jessi never says anything bad about anyone." She smiled.
"Which tells you everything."
Marcus stood and shook Ivan's hand.
His grip was firm and slightly too long.
"Glad you could make it."
They sat.
Wine was poured.
Marcus ordered for the table without asking.
For the first twenty minutes, the conversation was pleasant.
Diane asked about Fiona — her school, her health, whether she liked animals.
Ivan answered honestly.
He didn't have to perform anything.
His daughter was real.
His love for her was real.
That part was easy.
Then Marcus set down his glass.
"Ivan, I have to ask — what branch?"
"Army.
Two tours."
"Infantry?"
"First tour.
Second tour I was attached to a logistics and intelligence unit."
Marcus nodded.
"Honorable discharge?"
Ivan looked at him steadily.
"Medical."
"Right." Marcus picked up his glass again.
"Jessi mentioned the transition was difficult.
Financially."
"Marcus," Diane said softly.
"I'm just making conversation."
"It's fine," Ivan said.
"Yes.
The transition was hard.
It is for most veterans." He kept his voice even.
"But we manage."
"Of course you do." Marcus smiled.
"And now you have Jessi."
The word landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Diane looked at her plate.
Jessi reached across the table and placed her hand over Ivan's.
"And she has me," Ivan said.
Marcus studied them.
His eyes moved to their hands.
Then to Jessi's face.
Then back to Ivan.
"Tell me about the wedding," he said.
"Where did you go?"
"Small venue outside the city," Jessi said.
"We wanted privacy."
"Witnesses?"
"Two friends of Ivan's."
"Names?"
"Marcus." Jessi's voice dropped one degree.
"We're at dinner."
"I'm curious about my sister's husband.
Is that so strange?" He leaned back.
"I'm sure Ivan doesn't mind.
Do you, Ivan?"
Ivan looked at him.
"Ray Dominguez and Pete Callahan.
We served together.
Ray lives in Phoenix now.
Pete's in Baltimore."
Every name was real.
Both men would back him without a second's hesitation if asked.
He'd called them both that morning.
Marcus blinked.
Just once.
"I'd love to meet them sometime," he said.
"I'll pass that along."
The food arrived.
The conversation shifted.
But Ivan noticed that Marcus ate very little for the rest of the meal.
He was thinking.
Recalculating.
After dessert, Marcus excused himself.
Diane touched Jessi's arm across the table.
"He's not going to stop," she said quietly.
Her voice was different now — lower, stripped of the dinner-party warmth.
"I want you to know that I know that.
And I'm sorry."
Jessi looked at her sister-in-law.
"Diane—"
"I can't stop him.
I've tried." Her eyes were steady.
"But I'm not going to help him either."
She pulled her hand back just as Marcus returned to the table.
He looked at the two women.
At their expressions.
At the inch of space between Diane's hand and Jessi's arm.
"Ready?" he said to Diane.
"Yes," she said.
And smiled at him like nothing had happened.
In the cab home, Jessi stared out the window for a long time.
"She's never said that to me before," she said finally.
"I know."
"It changes things."
Ivan watched the city move past the glass.
"It changes what she'll do when this goes wrong for him."
Jessi turned to look at him.
"You think it will?"
"I think he walked into that dinner expecting to rattle you." Ivan glanced at her.
"He left rattled instead."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "He's going to move faster now."
"Yes," Ivan said.
"He is."
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
A text from a number he didn't recognize.
*You should ask her about the accident.
The real one.
Not the story she told the press.*
Ivan stared at the screen.
May you like
Then he looked at Jessi's profile in the dark of the cab.
He put the phone back in his pocket without showing her.
