My Husband M0cked Me in Front of His Friends for Wearing Protective Underwear After Childbirth — Then One of His Buddies Took the Package From His Hands and Said Something That Wiped the Smile Right Off His Face.
The laughter started in my kitchen.
I remember that because for one ridiculous second, I thought Carter had told one of his usual stories from college.
Then I heard my name.
“Elena!”
More laughter followed.
I was standing upstairs in the nursery of our home in Briar Glen, Westland, changing one of our eleven-month-old triplets.
I froze.
My daughter, June, kicked happily beneath me while I fastened her sleeper.
From downstairs, my husband called again.
“Elena, you have got to come explain this.”
Something in his voice made my stomach tighten.
Not curiosity.
Performance.
Carter had company.
Five of his friends were downstairs watching a game.
I had spent most of the afternoon cooking chili for them.
I had cleaned the living room.
Put drinks in the refrigerator.
Moved three baskets of baby laundry so Carter wouldn’t complain that the house looked “chaotic.”
And now, somehow, I had become entertainment.
I picked June up and carried her into the nursery.
Her brothers, Theo and Mason, were already asleep in their cribs.
I set June down carefully.
Then I walked downstairs.
The moment I reached the bottom step, I knew exactly what had happened.
Carter was standing near the kitchen island.
In his hand was an opened package of protective underwear.
Mine.
One of his friends was laughing.
Another looked uncomfortable.
And Adrian, a man Carter had known since college, wasn’t laughing at all.
