Three Names : Until the Money Divides - by Demi Muse

Marcus’s mouth was already on her when Leo’s hand found the inside of her thigh. The robe had fallen open. The television stayed blank. Diane kept her eyes on the screen and did not close her legs. The house was still in all three names. Their father was six months gone. The lawyer had been clear: the mortgage held only if they stayed under one roof and pooled the insurance check until the estate cleared. Diane wrote the lists—groceries, bills, who cooked which nights—and set them under the salt shaker. Marcus pushed against every line she drew. Leo did the dishes and fixed the dryer and said almost nothing. The rules were supposed to keep the ordinary days intact. They did not. A forearm brushed her breast at the sink. A shoulder pressed into the soft give of her stomach in the basement. A hand rested on her knee while the news played without sound. Each time the contact could still be called an accident. Then it could not. Marcus went to his knees on the bedroom carpet.