When Eleanor brought out pudding, Devon noticed a dish of mango sauce on the tray.“Not that one,” he said before the mango sauce reached Romy. His hand lifted instinctively between the dish and her plate. “She’s allergic.”Eleanor stopped.“I know,” Liam said, indicating the smaller bowl beside Eleanor. “I asked her to make Romy’s separately before we started.”Romy looked from the safe dessert to Devon.Weeks earlier, he had not known enough about his wife to prevent a mango cake from being placed in front of her. Tonight, he remembered before the plate reached the table.Liam had remembered before the pudding was made.Romy took the separate bowl and thanked Eleanor, not either man.“Thank you, Eleanor.”Monday entered the conversation when Mr Evans asked about reporting time.“I’m driving my wife to the center,” Devon said, his use of the title too deliberate to be accidental.Liam set down his spoon without reacting to the emphasis. “I’ll meet Romy inside with the coaching staff.
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