My Husband Laughed at the Anniversary Dinner I Spe…

Gerald talked about golf. Todd talked about a client who’d tried to lowball him and how he’d “crushed” the negotiation. The women asked polite questions, nodded at the appropriate beats, laughed when it was socially required.

I moved through the motions like a well-trained hostess. I passed plates, refilled wine glasses, smiled when spoken to. I’d made a lavender panna cotta for dessert, tested three times to get the texture just right.

No one commented on it, but the bowls were scraped clean. Derek spent most of the evening hunched with Todd over his phone, showing him something on the screen and laughing, shoulders shaking. Every time he laughed, it struck me how familiar the sound was, how frequently I’d heard it at my expense.

When the last guest left around eleven, the house suddenly felt too big, too quiet, the way a theater feels after everyone has gone home and the stage is still dressed, waiting for a play that already ended. Derek loosened his tie on his way down the hall, rolling his shoulders like the evening had been a mild inconvenience. “That went well, right?