My Husband Forgot to Hang Up — I Heard Everything, Then Invited Both Families to Dinner
“I want to give a toast,” I said.
And I watched my husband stiffen in his chair at the head of the table, some animal instinct warning him, a half-second too late, that something was wrong.
“My dear husband, Julian,” I began, and I cleared my throat, and I smiled directly at him.
Chapter 6 — The Toast
The dining room went dead silent.
Twelve pairs of eyes turned toward me.
Julian sat rigid at the head of the table, his fork hovering, forgotten, over his last bite of pumpkin pie.
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