“You really don’t have to do that,” I replied, holding the warm bottle against my chest.
“I want to do that,” Brandon said firmly as he gently took the baby from my arms. “Now sit down and take a breath.”
Over the past few months, I had noticed Brandon growing noticeably quieter whenever he was around my husband. He still came by the house regularly and bounced the babies on his knee, but whenever Scott cracked a joke at my expense, Brandon’s mouth would flatten into a tight line.
Whenever that happened, Brandon would suddenly become very interested in whatever bottle he was warming or anything else nearby just to avoid looking at Scott. I didn’t dwell on it much because I was far too busy keeping three tiny human beings alive.
The night of the championship game, Scott invited six of his friends over to our house in Columbus. I made a large pot of chili, filled several bowls with chips, and lined up cold drinks on the coffee table right beside the sectional sofa.
“Gemma, you are an absolute queen for doing all this,” one of the guys said enthusiastically as I set the heavy trays down.
“Enjoy it while it’s hot, guys,” I answered with a tired smile.
Scott clapped his hands together loudly in the doorway to gather everyone’s attention. “Boys, my wife feeds you and she cleans up after you, she just doesn’t laugh at my jokes anymore!”
The entire room chuckled at his comment while a couple of the guys exchanged a quick glance that I couldn’t quite interpret, though Brandon did not smile at all. I turned back toward the kitchen with the empty tray, telling myself that everything was fine and that it was just Scott being Scott.
Later in the evening, I returned to the living room to collect the empty plates and wipe down the tables. Suddenly, the living room erupted in a wave of laughter so loud that it stopped me dead in my tracks right at the kitchen threshold.
