I walked back into the dining room.
“I want to make a toast.”
Conversation stopped.
Elon stood near the doorway for a second, then sat.
I looked at Mom, Dad, his parents, then my husband.
“I had a different anniversary speech planned.”
Elon’s face tightened.
“This week, I called Elon because I wanted to know whether he’d be home for dinner.”
“Madeline.”
“He thought the call ended.”
The color left his face.
His mom lowered her glass.
I kept going.
“I heard him talking to a woman named Sierra.”
Elon shifted in his chair.
“You told her I was driving you insane. You complained because I sent you pictures of Sophie.”
“Maddie, stop.”
My voice stayed calm.
“You told her you hated me. Then you said you’d divorce me and marry her.”
His dad looked at him.
“Is that true?”
Elon rubbed both hands over his face.
“She heard part of a private conversation.”
“I heard enough.”
“Things were said.”
“You kissed her.”
His head snapped up.
“I was venting.”
“Did venting require kissing her too?”
Silence.
That was the first real answer I’d had all week.
