As we continued toward home, Diego’s tone softened.
“Don’t be mad. She’s just a young girl, new at work, trying too hard to prove herself. When she digs her heels in, even I can’t change her mind.”
He chuckled lightly, a smile touching his eyes.
“She’s got spirit.”
Just as the car stopped in front of our house, he suddenly leaned over and kissed my cheek.
I didn’t move away.
From the back seat, our daughter piped up, “Mommy, Aunt Courtney smells really nice. She smells like Daddy.”
Diego’s smile froze in an instant.
I smiled as if nothing had happened. “Of course, Daddy’s car smells like him. What does that have to do with the auntie?”
“Oh.” She blinked, half-understanding.
I stepped out and carried her into my arms.
Looking up, Diego spoke in a flat tone, “If raising Madeline feels too much for you, I can hire professionals. She’s the pearl of the Powell family. Your carelessness can’t taint her.”
From the moment I married into this family, I had learned to stomach the cold indifference of the man beside me.
He had kept mistresses before. One-night stands, too.
The year our daughter was born, I lost control just once.