“I’m asking what you came here ready to say.”
Mary pulled her hand from his.
“You told me we’d speak to her alone.”
Byron glanced at her. “Not now.”
That’s when I understood why he’d brought her there.
“You chose the time.”
***
He’d waited until I was sore, exhausted, and unable to stand alone. For ten years, I’d calmed arguments and protected everyone from embarrassment.
He’d counted on that version of me.
Thomas lowered the gift bag.
“What exactly are you doing, son?”
“I’m telling the truth, Dad. It’s time.”
He’d waited until I was sore.
“Here?” Thomas asked. “On the day your child was born?”
“It had to come out.”
I looked at Mary.
“How far along are you?”
She hesitated. “Almost… five months.”
Five months.
Byron had been sleeping with her while I carried our son.
