I waited until after dinner. The boys were at the table, homework half-done, plates pushed aside. The house felt too clean, too careful, like everything had been holding its breath since the press conference ended. Anthony noticed first. He always did.
“You’re quiet,” he said, studying me over the rim of his glass.
“Just tired baby,” I answered automatically.
Carter swung his legs beneath the chair. “Is Mr. Ahmir coming later?”
The question landed softly.
That was the cruelest part.
I set my fork down. My hands were steady. My voice was not.
“No,” I said gently. “He’s not.”
Anthony frowned. “Like… tonight?”
“Like for a while.”
Carter’s brow furrowed. “But you said you were gonna—”
“I know,” I interrupted softly, reaching for his hand. “I know what I said.”
Silence spread across
