Mark told it plainly. At sixteen, he had teased his first girlfriend about her freckles in front of friends, thinking it was funny. She stopped smiling, covered her face with a scarf, and avoided him for months. Years later, he learned she had been scrubbing her skin raw at night. He said he never forgave himself, and he wished someone had stopped him sooner. Brandon stared at the table, silent.

Then Mark said that Chloe did not need to change anything about her body to be worth holding hands with. He did not yell, and he did not threaten. He simply said that if Brandon felt embarrassed by her, he was free to leave, and if he wanted to stay, he would need to apologize and mean it. The room was quiet for a long time. Chloe lifted her eyes.

Brandon’s voice shook as he said he was sorry. He admitted his friends had laughed at a joke about her arms, and he had repeated it to seem cool. He turned to Chloe and said her arms were fine, and he had been the one acting wrong. Chloe said she accepted the apology, but she needed time. Brandon nodded, thanked us for dinner, and left the cookies on the table.

Chloe put the razor back in the drawer and never picked it up again. She and Brandon stayed friends, and he later stood up to a classmate who teased her. Weeks later, she wore a short-sleeved shirt to school and held her head high. Mark and I never mentioned it, but every Sunday we still set the table for four, in case a good kid needs a seat.