“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like.”
He glanced at Carol before answering, and that tiny movement told me more than his words ever could.
“We have expenses,” he said.
“The house needs things.
Megan has a baby coming.
Mom shouldn’t have to ask permission every time something comes up.”
I almost laughed.
Carol had lived in our guest room for eight months.
She used the good towels, complained about the groceries I bought, and kept the thermostat so high that I dreaded opening the electric bill.
I had never asked her for rent.
Apparently, that was not enough.
“You wanted to give your mother access to the savings I had before we married,” I said.
Ryan’s voice rose.
“Why do you keep calling it your money? We’re married.”
“Because the account is in my name, funded by my work, and you tried to change it without telling me.”
Carol folded her arms.
“A wife who trusts her husband does not hide money.”
“A husband who trusts his wife does not impersonate her authorization.”
That landed.
Ryan’s face flushed.
Megan looked down at her lap.
Carol’s mouth became a thin line.
Then Leo stepped around me and held up the crushed lobster meat.
“Mommy, can I throw this away now?”
Every adult looked at him.
I crouched and closed his fingers gently around the scrap.
“Yes, baby.
We’re going to throw a lot of things away.”
Ryan heard the meaning before Carol did.
He moved toward me again.
“You are not taking my son anywhere over dinner.”
I stood and placed myself between him and Leo.
“This is not about dinner.”
“It’s a lobster.”
“It is my five-year-old being told his mother is not family while you sat ten feet away.”
Ryan looked toward Carol, as if she might provide the right response.
She did.
“He needs to learn that the world does not revolve around him.
Children do not need luxury food.”
“He wasn’t asking for luxury.
He was asking to be included.”
“He had rice.”
“Cold rice,” Leo whispered.
Carol’s gaze flicked toward him with irritation, and something inside me became perfectly still.
I took Leo’s hand.
“Put your shoes on.”
Ryan blocked the hallway.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere my son is not punished for being mine.”
“You’re exhausted.
You’re being irrational.”
“No.
I was irrational for eight months.”
I led Leo around him and helped him into his sneakers.
I did not pack clothes.
