Not completely.
A child splashed in the pool.
Ice shifted in someone’s cup.
But the adults stopped speaking.
I felt every eye touch my face, my dress, my body, and my hands.
The adults stopped speaking.
My fingers slipped from Daniel’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
I did not know who I was apologizing to.
Daniel’s hand found mine again.
“Don’t be,” he said.
Ryan’s smile sharpened.
“Does the boyfriend package include hand-holding, or is that extra?”
I did not know who I was apologizing to.
Elaine stiffened.
My oldest son stood near the pool with a towel around his shoulders, watching his father.
Daniel looked at Ryan.
“Does the ex-husband package include humiliating the mother of your children in front of them, or do you do that for free?”
Someone gasped.
Ryan swallowed, his throat locking against whatever he was about to say.
“Do you do that for free?”
“It was a joke,” he shot back.
Daniel nodded once.
“Interesting choice.”
Somehow, the silence after his words felt worse than shouting.
***
The party tried to continue.
Music played again. Kids raced toward the diving board. Someone asked if the burgers were done. Plates were passed. Lemonade spilled. Elaine’s sister complained about mosquitoes.
But the day had changed shape.
“It was a joke.”
Ryan kept watching Daniel.
At first, I thought he was waiting for Daniel to slip.
To prove he was fake.
Daniel didn’t give him anything.
He helped my daughter open a juice box. He asked my sons about baseball and listened like their answers mattered. He complimented Elaine’s garden. When an older aunt dropped her napkin, he picked it up before she bent for it.
