Angie started to point out the sunset to the party guests until she realized Mike and Warren were framed by it, arguing.
The voices were louder than annoyed, softer than enraged, but even at a distance, Angie could hear her brother’s breathalyzer worthy voice, which meant he’d only get louder.
There were a number of things her brother and husband could be arguing about, from sports to politics.
Angie hoped it wasn’t about her child.
Though the party wasn’t a celebration of anything, just a gathering of friends and some family, Angie grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne out of a cooler near the above ground pool and popped it.
The cork popping garnered some of the whoops she had hoped for.
“Let’s celebrate summer, y’all!”
There were more whoops and Angie handed off the bottle and some plastic cups to Callie.
“Do the honors, okay?”
Angie’s best friend gave her a look, but did as she was asked.
Angie shuffled over to the two men.
Mike had his thumb jammed in the lip of a half-full beer bottle, a sure sign her husband was getting frustrated.
“On top of that,” Warren was saying, “Frank is a family name. A name meant to be passed down. My father is going to be devastated.”
Angie felt the breath in her lungs turn sour. The argument was in fact about their child, Angie and Mike’s only.
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