My skin crawled.
“Sweetheart,” she said.
“You should drink.”
There it was.
The same mother-in-law who had called me her daughter.
I looked at the tea.
“No.”
Margaret’s smile remained.
“It will help.”
“I don’t want it.”
Adrian looked at her.
Something passed between them.
Then Thomas entered.
No charm.
No concern.
He closed the door.
“Claire.”
I looked up.
He crouched.
“We need you to complete a financial authorization.”
I let my head fall slightly.
“What?”
He spoke slowly.
As though I were stupid.
“Adrian is going to help manage some accounts while you’re sick.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You already agreed.”
“No.”
Adrian whispered:
“Dad.”
Thomas ignored him.
“Claire, touch the screen.”
I looked at Adrian.
He could stop it.
One sentence.
That was all I wanted.
One last chance.
Instead, he took my hand.
“I’m sorry.”
The grief inside me disappeared.
Good.
I sat upright.
