“What time should I make the reservation?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Emily looked at me as if she had just realized I was still there.
“Reservation for what?”
“The table for the family dinner.”
There was an awkward silence.
Daniel cleared his throat.
Emily exchanged a look with him—one of those looks that speak without words.
“Oh no, mother-in-law,” Emily said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s an intimate dinner, you know. Just us, the kids, my mom, who’s coming from upstate. Direct family.”
Those words stabbed my chest like shards of glass.
“I understand,” I said, and went back to the stove even though there was nothing left to flip.
“Besides,” Emily continued, spreading butter on her toast, “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 delicious.”
