While I squeezed our child and brushed hidden clusters out of their hair, Harris informed me (my forehead) that he would be throwing a brunch next Sunday.

“To celebrate Caro’s new single ahead of the release.”

“Of course.”

I couldn’t believe it. This was where his focus was?

“Do you want me here for it?” I asked, trying to imagine Caro and me in the same room. This brunch didn’t really fit into the theory of their secret affair, unless it was a “hidden in plain sight” kind of thing. Still, wouldn’t he have a better time without me there? “I could help set up and then leave for a few hours. What kind of food were you thinking?”

Harris looked up at the kitchen ceiling and shut his eyes as if I’d just said something beyond the pale.

“I’d like to be with a person who actually wants to be here,” he whispered. Not to me but to himself or the gods.