“What would be awkward?”

He rolled his wedding ring around his finger once.

“Claire, please.”

That answer bothered me more than a name would have.

I pulled the blanket straight across my knees.

“Are you asking me to miss our son’s birthday?”

“No.

I am asking you to let me handle the guests.”

“Those are not the same request.”

He looked toward the dark window instead of at me.

“It will be easier this way.”

I waited for him to explain who the guests were.

He did not.

For a moment I considered whether I had misunderstood something simple.