The Toast That Silenced the Entire Backyard
“Leaving so soon, Tessa? I suppose some people still can’t stand to hear the truth.”
Russell Sanford’s voice followed me across the backyard.
I stopped beside my chair.
For a moment, I considered pretending I hadn’t heard him. I could simply collect my purse, walk through the garden gate, and disappear before the afternoon became any uglier.
But then I noticed the expressions around the table.
Some guests were uncomfortable. Others looked entertained. A few were openly watching me, waiting to see whether I would cry.
Russell seemed to enjoy having an audience.
He stood beneath a white balloon arch, one arm wrapped around his pregnant wife’s waist, his champagne glass raised like a trophy.
Delaney smiled politely, although I noticed her eyes moving between us.
“Russell,” I said calmly, “I came because your mother asked me to. I didn’t come here to discuss our marriage.”
He chuckled.
“Of course. You never wanted to discuss the real reason our marriage failed.”
His mother, Gwen, finally looked up.
“Russell, that’s enough.”
But her voice lacked conviction.
He ignored her.
“Seven years, Tessa. Seven years of doctors, appointments, disappointments, and excuses. You know how many birthdays I spent hoping I’d finally become a father?”
I looked at him.
I remembered every one of those birthdays.
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