Daniel.
I ignored it.
Then came the texts. Danny texted all:
“Emily, come back inside. We need to talk. This isn’t funny. You’re ruining Christmas. We can fix this. Just stop being dramatic. Are you seriously leaving over a few presents?”
I let out a short, humorless laugh.
A few presents. That was rich.
Before I could even put my car in drive, a shadow moved across my windshield. My stomach twisted as I realized who it was.
Linda.
She was standing directly in front of my car, arms crossed, a look of pure, unfiltered rage twisting her face. The cold wind whipped at her perfectly styled hair, but she didn’t seem to care.
She was on a mission.
I rolled down my window just slightly.
“Move L.”
She took a step closer.
“We need to talk.”
I sighed, already regretting this.
“I think we’ve talked enough for one night.”
Her lips curled into something that was supposed to be a smile but looked more like a bearing of teeth.
“I don’t think you understand what you’re doing here, sweetie.”
Ah, there it was. Sweetie. That condescending little nickname she had used for me since the day I married her son.
It had never been affectionate, only ever a thinly veiled way of reminding me that, in her eyes, I was beneath her.
I stared at her, unmoved.
“Oh, I understand perfectly.”
Her fake smile wavered.
“Do you really? Because this house, this family, this is Daniel’s life, which means it’s your life too. You’re not just punishing me. You’re punishing him.”
I tilted my head, and her nostrils flared, and she repeated like she couldn’t believe I wasn’t immediately crumbling under her words.