He looked at me.
That was what he always did.
He expected me to smile.
To smooth everything over.
To reassure everyone that Richard hadn’t crossed a line.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
David calmly set his beer on the table.
Then he stood up.
“Sit down, man,” Richard said. “Come on. The second half is starting.”
David ignored him.
He crossed the room, gently removed the package from Richard’s hand, and placed it on the coffee table.
The laughter vanished.
“Game’s over for me,” David said. “I’m leaving.”
Richard stared at him.
“Come on. Don’t be dramatic. It was a joke.”
David turned toward him.
His voice stayed calm.
“Belinda carried three babies for nine months. Her body went through something enormous bringing your children into this world. If you think her recovery is entertainment, then you’ve become someone I don’t recognize.”
