“What time should I be ready?” I asked.
Emily looked at me with that blank little pause, like she had forgotten I was in the room.
“Ready for what?”
“The reservation. The family dinner.”
The silence that followed was sharp and ugly. Daniel cleared his throat. Emily exchanged a glance with him, the kind of glance that speaks in a whole language of contempt.
“Oh no, Mother-in-law,” Emily said, smiling with her mouth and not her eyes. “It’s an intimate dinner. Just us, the kids, and my mom. Direct family.”
Those two words hit me like broken glass.
“I understand,” I said.
I turned back to the stove though there was nothing left to cook.
Emily kept talking as if she were spreading butter over a harmless point.
“Besides, someone has to stay with the house, right? We can’t just leave it empty. And you cook so well. I’m sure you’ll make yourself something nice.”
Daniel said nothing. He just stared at his plate of eggs.
At eleven that morning, they left. Emily changed outfits three times before choosing the red dress. The kids were excited in their nice clothes. Daniel gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, so automatic it felt like muscle memory instead of love.