“I do not criticize Emma.”
Harold looked at me.
“You said our curtains were cheap.”
“They are.”
“You said her lasagna was too salty.”
“It was.”
“You said our wedding flowers looked like funeral flowers.”
“They were lilies.”
“They were peonies.”
Grace lifted her hands.
“So honesty is illegal now?”
“No,” Harold said. “But disrespect has consequences.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. It’s a boundary.”
“I’m sick of that word.”
“That doesn’t make it disappear.”
For the first time, Grace seemed to realize Harold was serious.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll stay until morning.”
She smiled too sweetly.
I should have known that was worse than the yelling.
Later, Harold hung blankets across both missing doorways.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“For not stopping this sooner.”
“You stopped it tonight.”
He stared at the blanket.
“I keep believing that if I explain things correctly, she’ll understand.”
