I looked from the underwear on the coffee table to Mark.
He had seen everything.
Every second.
Every word.
Instead of correcting his niece, he leaned against the kitchen island and laughed.
“She’s kidding.”
Chloe grinned.
“Am I?”
Her friend snorted into her phone.
I checked the time on my watch.
7:42 a.m.
“I gave you ten minutes,” I said.
Mark sighed dramatically.
“Sarah, don’t start.”
“I haven’t.”
“You always turn little things into a fight.”
I nodded slowly.
“A nineteen-year-old throws dirty underwear in my face inside my own home.”
“She’s immature.”
“And?”
“You should be the bigger person.”
For years, I had been.
That was precisely why they believed they could keep pushing.
I picked up my briefcase.
“I’m leaving for work.”
Chloe stretched across my couch.
“Don’t forget breakfast.”
I looked at her.
“You’ll be hungry.”
