One morning, after he noticed something again at brunch, I finally asked him to stop.
“You worry too much, Bel,” he said.
“I’m not worried. I just don’t like being the butt of jokes.”
Richard smiled.
“That’s my love language. If I couldn’t hit on you, I’d have to hate you.”
I dropped it.
I gave up a lot of things this year.
I was exhausted. My three children needed me constantly, and most days I barely had the energy to shower, let alone defend myself whenever my husband said something insensitive.
Although there was one person who never laughed.
David.
He had been Richard’s closest friend since college. He was quiet, caring, and somehow always remembered which child was which.
Every time he came over he asked how I was sleeping.
One time, when I was trying to eat dinner and Tobby was crying on my shoulder, David reached out to me.
