“Oh come on,” Linda said. “Stop calling me a b***h when it’s clear you’re the one with b***h instincts. It’s like you are a damn dog. You certainly love Buddy more than me.”
“Maybe I do,” David said.
I hissed. That was bad. Not that the rest had been good, but…that was really bad to say. I may not have agreed with Linda’s method—once I understood what the fight was about—but oh, that was not a good thing to say to your wife. I’d witnessed any number of deathblows in a fight, and I knew this one was it.
Their marriage was done, right there, when David had picked a dog over his wife.
Linda gasped, partly covering my own reaction, but Jack had emerged into the kitchen at this point. He stuck his head through that cut-out window in the wall and made himself known to his parents. Buddy, the
