— and maybe a moment to breathe. My hands shake as I pour lemonade into glasses. The ice clinks and echoes around the room like it’s mocking me.
Why did I do this?
To watch them squirm.
And they are.
Back in the living room, I pass out the drinks, careful to give my husband his last. I lean a little too close, whisper in his ear, “Smile, darling. You wouldn’t continue reading …
