“I’ve got a one-year-old son with your best friend,” he said.
I looked at the child first, because he is a child.
Then at Yvie, who was not smiling, and not proud, and would not look at me.
She looked frightened.
And then at Rhett, who was waiting.
And I smiled and said: “Really?”
And something went across his face for about a quarter of a second.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
