Daniel was in the kitchen making a bottle.
He looked up. “He calm down?”
I leaned against the doorway. “What happened when you took Max to get juice?”
His expression didn’t change right away.
That almost made it worse.
“What?”
“At the hospital.”
“We got juice.”
“Max said you went down another hallway.”
Daniel let out a short laugh. “He’s five.”
“He said he saw you with a woman.”
Now his face changed.
Not confusion. Not concern.
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.
