"I’m going into the city to pick something out at the auction house. You’re coming with me."
"I am?"
"Yes. We need to present a united front. No more rumors." He paused, his expression darkening. "Donna is coming too."
My fingers clenched under the sheets. "Donna?"
"She has an eye for these things. And frankly, Eliza, after the way you treated her last night, you owe her an apology."
I stared at him. "You want me to apologize to the woman who is sleeping with you?"
"I want you to apologize to my sister-in-law for physically assaulting her!" George snapped, his mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "If you can't do that, if you can't be civil, then maybe you really do belong in a psych ward."
He waited, challenging me. He expected me to fight. He expected the tears, the screaming, the "it's not fair."
But the Eliza who fought for fairness died in that hospital bed.
I took a deep breath. I forced the corners of my mouth up. It felt unnatural, like stretching plastic, but I held it.
"You’re right, George," I said softy.
He blinked, taken aback. "I am?"