I rubbed my eyes and suddenly heard laughter coming from the door.
As I wiped my eyes, I heard laughter from the entrance.
Yedda and Raymond Lattimore strolled in, teasing and playful, as if they were newlyweds.
Yedda's expression darkened when she saw me sitting on the sofa.
"Boyce, you didn't answer your phone. So, you came here first.
"Are you really going to suggest a divorce over something so trivial?"
I looked up at her meticulously made-up face, feeling nothing.
"So, the 'urgent matter' was abandoning your mother to be with him?"
"I've told you a million times—Raymond is my best friend. Don't you get that? If you're just being petty, you can just admit it. But don't use my mom as an excuse."
Raymond was Yedda's so-called best friend.
Their relationship was so close that they drank from the same bottle, wore matching outfits, and were overly familiar.
She used to justify it, saying, "I don't even think of him as a guy. And if we wanted to be together, it would've happened by now."
I loved her and believed her.
But as my tolerance grew, so did their inappropriate behavior.