“It was delicious.” I stand with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. “Let’s do this again next t-t-t . . .” My lips thin and I sigh, trying not to beat myself up. “When Dad golfs next.” She doesn’t react. She knows me well enough to know how much the stutter pisses me off. Instead, she carries on like she didn’t notice, even though I know she did. How could you not?
