I thought about the triplets who were sound asleep in their nursery upstairs, oblivious to what was happening down here. I thought about how many painful hours I had spent trying to help my body heal after bringing them into the world.
My mind told me very clearly that I should set the plates down before I accidentally dropped them onto the rug. That was the exact moment when I noticed Brandon.
He hadn’t laughed a single time during the entire display. Brandon was sitting quietly in the leather armchair closest to the window with his beer paused halfway to his mouth.
His jaw was set in a hard line that I had never seen on him before. His dark eyes were fixed on the package in Scott’s hand before they slowly shifted over to meet mine.
PART 2
Something in Brandon’s face shifted, showing an emotion that was not pity, but rather something much older, harder, and far closer to pure grief. “Scott,” Brandon said very quietly across the noisy room.
Scott didn’t hear him over his own voice because he was still happily riffing for his audience. “Scott!” Brandon repeated, his voice much louder and sharper this time.
The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately as a few of the guys glanced over, sensing a confrontation that they hadn’t expected. “What is it, man?” Scott laughed, turning around. “Buddy, don’t tell me you’re about to lecture me right now, because it’s just a bit and she’s completely fine, right, honey?”
Scott looked over at me for confirmation, relying on me to smooth things over the way I always did when he crossed a line. I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t find a single word to speak.
Brandon set his beer bottle down carefully on the wooden coaster beside the end table. He didn’t slam it down, but placed it there deliberately like a man who had just made an undeniable decision.
