“This is absurd.”
“Then you won’t mind answering questions.”
“I do mind,” Daniel snapped. “You walk into my mother’s home on Christmas Eve, in front of my family, throwing accusations around—”
“Daniel,” his mother whispered.
He turned on her. “Not now.”
The words struck her harder than he intended. She flinched, and for the first time since I had known Marianne Reynolds, I saw the elegant, steel-backed matriarch of the family shrink inside her own skin.
My sons noticed too.
Liam moved closer to me. Noah still stared at Daniel with that unbearable, innocent curiosity. Caleb, always the quietest, clutched his stuffed dinosaur so tightly the seams strained. Jonah, the oldest by three minutes, stood in front of his brothers with his chin lifted, as if his small body could shield them from the entire room.
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Stay with Grandma Kesha,” I murmured.
