“Derek,” I said quietly. “You promised me.”
He didn’t look at me. He stood up and smiled at the guests. “Nothing to worry about. She mixed things up. Everybody, have some cake.”
I walked up to him and stood in his way. “You said if I spoke today, you wouldn’t stop me. I spoke. And you — you spoke up for her. You testified.”
His Adam’s apple moved. He glanced toward June. Then, low: “There are people everywhere. It’s Sophie’s birthday. Let’s talk at home, okay?”
“Talk about what at home?” I looked at him. “So you can rewrite what Sophie said again?”
“Sophie said ‘hot.’ Not ‘burning.'” His voice dropped lower. “That sentence can mean two things. Mom’s version is medicine. Your version is—”
“There aren’t two.” I cut him off. “You picked one.”
I let go of his hand.
He reached out to grab me. June’s voice came from across the yard: “Derek! Come cut the cake! Sophie’s waiting!”
