Dinner was awful.
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Then came the plates.
Claire stood, smooth as anything, and started stacking them. Daniel's wife pulled her fork back with a startled look.
My friend Tessa stared at me across the table, eyebrows high, like, are you seeing this?
I was seeing it. I got up and caught Mark's sleeve and pulled him into the hallway.
"Please ask her to stop," I whispered. "She's treating me like a guest in my own home."
Are you seeing this?
He glanced toward the dining room first. Not at me. At her, like he was checking she was okay.
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"Well," he said, "she honestly did run the household better than you."
Hearing him say it so plainly was worse than all the comparisons that had come before.
I stared at him.
"It's true," he said, although he had the grace to look a little embarrassed.
