But there was something else happening.
Something Daniel had not told me.
And suddenly I became aware of details from the past twenty-four hours that had seemed meaningless before.
Daniel checking the doorbell camera twice that morning.
Daniel asking whether I had slept well.
Daniel going quiet when Ethan’s truck pulled into our driveway before noon.
Daniel disappearing into his office for almost twenty minutes while everyone else set up tables outside.
At the time, none of it had seemed important.
Now those moments lined up in my mind like footprints.
“What was she wearing?” Daniel repeated.
Ethan rubbed his jaw.
“A black dress.”
I stared at him.
Last night I had worn gray sweatpants and one of Daniel’s old Penn State shirts.
I had not left the house after six.
Daniel knew that.
We had eaten leftover Chinese food on the couch.
At eleven-thirty, he had fallen asleep beside me while an old crime documentary played on television.
At twelve-fifteen, I had covered him with a blanket.
At twelve-thirty, I had gone upstairs.
At least, that was how I remembered it.
So why did Daniel still look as though he were waiting for something?
Ethan shrugged.
“Look, I wasn’t studying her clothes.”
“Convenient.”
“Believe whatever you want.”
“I intend to.”
Daniel stepped around the broken bowl.
Glass crunched beneath his shoe.
Ethan took another step backward.
“You want to know what she said?” Ethan asked.
“No.”
That answer surprised everyone.
Including me.
Ethan frowned.
Daniel continued.
“I want you to say what you said when I walked in.”
“What?”
“About my wife.”
Ethan laughed.
The sound was forced now.
“Man, this is getting weird.”
“Say it.”
“Daniel, maybe you should calm down.”
“I am calm.”
Nobody could argue with that.
Daniel was so calm that several people looked more frightened than they had when the bowl shattered.
A relative near the porch whispered that perhaps someone should call the police.
Someone else told him not to be ridiculous.
Then Daniel’s aunt hissed for everyone to keep their voices down because the neighbors might hear.
Another relative whispered something about the homeowners association president living two houses down.
Under any other circumstances, it might have been funny.
Daniel ignored all of them.
He walked to the counter.
His phone was sitting beside the sink.
I had not noticed it before.
Daniel picked it up.
He looked at the screen.
Then he placed it face down on the counter.
“Say it again.”
Ethan stared at him.
“What?”
“Everything.”
Daniel’s voice remained quiet.
“Everything you said about my wife. Slowly.”
My heart began pounding harder.
“Daniel, please.”
I stepped toward him.
Again, he lifted one hand.
Stop.
This time I obeyed immediately.
Not because I was afraid of him.
Because suddenly I understood something far more unsettling.
Daniel was not waiting for my explanation.
He already knew something.
Ethan must have sensed it too.
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
“Man,” Ethan said, forcing another laugh, “you’re embarrassing yourself.”
Daniel gave a tiny nod.
“Maybe.”
He picked up the phone.
Tapped the screen.
Then another time.
Ethan watched his fingers.
The kitchen remained silent.
Outside, one of the sprinklers clicked rhythmically across the lawn.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The ordinary sound made everything worse.
Daniel looked at the screen for several seconds.
“Last night,” he said.
Ethan swallowed.
“Yes.”
“At your house.”
“Yes.”
“After midnight.”
“That’s what I said.”
“She drove there.”
“Yes.”
“You touched her today because you believed there was already something between you.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“So?”
“So say what you mean.”
Ethan looked around again.
Too many people were watching.
His pride would not let him retreat.
“Fine.”
He turned toward Daniel.
“She wanted me.”
My breath caught.