Calculation.
He set the bottle down carefully on the counter. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”
I stared at him. “Doing what?”
“We have a newborn home. You’re hormonal. Max is acting out. Can we not turn this into some insane thing?”
There it was. The pivot. So fast I almost missed it.
I had lived with him nine years at that point. Long enough to know when he was buying time.
“Who was the woman?”
“No one.”
“He said you gave her an envelope.”
Daniel laughed again, but this time too loud. “An envelope? From a five-year-old witness?”
“Stop talking about him like that.”
“Then stop interrogating me over a child’s imagination.”
The baby started crying upstairs.
He glanced toward the ceiling and grabbed the bottle. “We’re not doing this tonight.”
Then he walked past me.
