My 4-year-old daughter pointed at my husband's boss's wife and said, "That's the lady who bites."

"Thanks," I said anyway.

He kissed my cheek quickly, almost mechanically, as if he were crossing another task off his list.

Then he got out and walked straight towards Richard before I even had time to unbuckle May's belt.

I convinced myself that the discomfort in my stomach was just nerves about looking bad. I had no idea that our four-year-old daughter was about to say something that would ruin everything.

Men in expensive suits drank whiskey. Women in designer dresses exchanged air kisses by the pool. Daniel laughed louder than usual at Richard's jokes.

Inside, the whole house smelled of money and lemon polish. Even the waiters moved with such natural confidence that, by comparison, it made me feel uneasy.

A woman glanced at my dress, then my shoes, and gave me a smile so forced it could barely be called a smile. I took a glass of sparkling water from a tray just to have something to hold.

Across the room, Daniel was already nodding enthusiastically to Richard, his face lit up with that polished expression he always wore at work events. That's when I realized he wasn't nervous that night. He was focused on his performance.

We spent most of the night making sure May didn't spill juice on anything worth more than the rent.

At one point, I found her crouched by the dessert table with frosting on her fingers. I sighed, grabbed a napkin, and started cleaning her hands.

Continued on the next page

That's when Richard walked past us with his wife.

Vanessa.

Tall, elegant, beautiful in a cool and refined way. The kind of woman who instantly made me notice every cheap item of clothing she wore.

May looked at her immediately. Then she smiled and pointed.

"Mom," she said aloud, "that's..."

"The lady who bites."

I laughed automatically because the sentence made no sense.

But Richard stopped.

Slowly, he turned and stared at May.

"What do you mean by that, darling?" she asked.

I laughed nervously.

"He's four years old. He makes things up."

But Richard continued to stare at her.

"The lady who bites?" she repeated. "May, tell me why you call her that."

My every instinct was to end the conversation. But May smiled proudly and replied.

"He bites his ring when he picks up his dad's phone," May said.

The entire courtyard fell silent.

Daniel's smile disappeared. I turned slowly towards him.

"What phone number?" I asked in a low voice.

May seemed confused, as if all the adults were speaking slowly.

"Dad's shiny phone. The one he keeps in the sock drawer. The pretty lady comes over when you take me to ballet." She sat down on the sofa, bit her ring, and said, "Don't worry, he'll never know."