Mark glanced toward the dining room.
Then he gave me an expression I still remember perfectly.
And said,
“Well, honestly, she did run the household better than you.”
For a second, I couldn’t speak.
Angry didn’t even begin to describe how I felt.
I was standing there pregnant with his child, hosting his birthday in our home, while he openly compared me to his ex-wife.
And somehow, I was supposed to smile through it.
I looked at him.
“Did you really just say that?”
He immediately lowered his voice.
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start?”
“It’s my birthday.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently it’s also Claire’s.”
His face hardened.
“Enough.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Actually, you’re right. Enough.”
Then I walked away.
I went into the bedroom and closed the door.
For several minutes, I simply stood there.
My hands were shaking.
I looked at my wedding ring.
Seven months.
Seven months married.
