I glanced around the room with practiced ease. "Oh, we have a guest?"
My eyes landed on the woman tucked against my husband's side, and I smiled. "Isn't this Ruth Newton?"
I slipped off my coat and sat down at the table like nothing was wrong.
Inside, I was hemorrhaging. The pain was unbearable.
But my pride—my dignity—demanded composure.
I picked up my chopsticks, took a bite of fish, and gave my mother-in-law an appreciative thumbs-up.
"Mom, this braised carp is my absolute favorite. Thank you for the wonderful surprise."
I lifted a glass of warm Maotai and let it burn down my throat.
Then I turned a bright smile toward my father-in-law.
"I do love a good baijiu. This is excellent—thank you for warming it, Dad."
The liquor hit my stomach, and warmth spread through my veins.
I wasn't cold anymore. Feeling returned to my fingers and toes. And the tension in the room? I'd wound it tight as a spring before a storm.
Ray Dickerson finally cracked. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"Lottie Dickerson, weren't you supposed to be at your parents' house?"
I met his frigid stare with a smile.
"Flight got canceled."
His expression soured. I pretended not to notice.