Donna stood in my walk-in closet with both doors wide open. My leather briefcases, my trial totes, the handbags I had bought to mark victories I had earned one punishing year at a time, were piled in the hallway like laundry. One entire shelf was already lined with her shoe boxes. My cedar drawers were pulled open. She held one of my garment bags in two fingers as if it offended her.
“There you are,” she said, turning as though I were late to an appointment she had scheduled. “You have entirely too much closet space for one person.”
For one beat I simply looked at her. Behind me, Ryan hovered in the doorway pretending to study the crown molding.
“You are removing my things from my closet,” I said.
Donna tilted her head. “Our family is growing, Claire. Sharing is part of maturity. Besides, the guest room mattress downstairs is terrible for my back, and your bed is the only acceptable one in the house.”
“It’s my bed.”
“It’s Ryan’s bed too, and in forty-eight hours it becomes a marital bed. Honestly, you should start adjusting your mindset now. Marriage requires flexibility.”