The party dissolved into uncomfortable murmurs. A child started crying. Someone dropped a plate.
My perfect moment was irreparably shattered.
“Claire, what was that? You embarrassed her in front of everyone.”
I cut through his words like a knife. “I embarrassed her? Adam, she leaped into your arms before I could hug you, and kissed you at our gender reveal. How dare you defend her?”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. She’s always been like that.”
“Exactly,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “And you’ve always let her. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to watch her cross the line over and over while you just stand there?”
Silence stretched between us, heavy with years of unspoken tensions.
“I didn’t realize how much it was bothering you,” he said quietly. “I thought you were okay with her.”
“I’m okay with you having female friends. What I’m not okay with is watching Emily act like she’s your lover. And if you won’t set boundaries for her, Adam, I will.”
My plan was surgical in its precision. I would make Emily understand, publicly and unequivocally, that her behavior was unacceptable.
“I brought these cute little onesies!” she announced. “Aren’t they adorable?”
I smiled. Predatory. Unblinking. “So thoughtful of you. I’m sure you’ll love the slideshow we’ve put together.”
The first few photos were innocuous shots of the decorations and group photos. Then came the image of me cutting the cake, followed by photos showing Emily launching herself on Adam before I could hug him, and her kissing him on the cheek.
Each one bore a caption: When your husband’s best friend thinks she’s the one who’s pregnant.
The guests had mixed reactions. Some laughed and mocked Emily while others shot her disapproving looks.
To my immense satisfaction, I even overheard some of Adam’s guy friends telling him it wasn’t right for him to let Emily interfere in our moment like that.
While Adam had the grace to blush, Emily glared at me.
