The invitation sat on the kitchen counter for two days before Ethan said anything about it.
I'd seen him pick it up, read it, set it back down. Pick it up again. Stare at it like it was written in a foreign language. Then walk away without a word. Three times yesterday. Twice this morning.
Finally, while Lily was upstairs playing and I was attempting to make cookies that didn't resemble hockey pucks, he cleared his throat behind me.
"So there's this thing," he said.
I turned, wooden spoon in hand. "A thing?"
"A town thing. Christmas party at the community center." He picked up the invitation, his thumb rubbing across the embossed snowflake on the front. "It's this Saturday. Everyone goes. It's kind of a big deal around here."
"Sounds nice."
"Yeah." He set the invitation down. Picked
