I brought my husband and our four-year-old daughter to his boss’s extravagant birthday celebration expecting uncomfortable small talk and overpriced wine. I never imagined one innocent comment from my child would freeze the entire evening in place.
The drive to Richard’s estate felt unusually long. Daniel sat beside me in the passenger seat with his hands folded tightly in his lap, checking his phone every few seconds even though we were less than ten minutes away.
“Please keep May near you tonight,” he said for the third time that week.
“I will,” I answered, keeping my attention on the road.
“I need tonight to go smoothly, Claire. Really smoothly.”
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