But there was plenty to throw away.
By the time I finished, I noticed Harrison had called me several times.
I didn't need to guess why. He was going to blame me for not keeping his mother under control.
I left the key on the entryway table and picked up the last framed wedding portrait on my way out.
I walked straight into Harrison.
The portrait smashed against the floor, the glass shattering into pieces.
A shard sliced across the top of my foot. Blood welled up instantly.
Harrison grabbed Claudia and pulled her behind him, his face tight with irritation.
"Tilda, what the hell? Didn't you see Claudia standing there? What if you'd hurt her?"
He didn't see the blood pooling on my foot. Instead, he crouched down and carefully brushed a speck of glass—no bigger than a grain of rice—off Claudia's shoe.
I had no interest in watching him dote on another woman. I grabbed my suitcase and walked past them.
His eyes caught the luggage, and he scrambled to his feet, seizing my arm.
"Tilda, where are you going?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but his phone rang.
I saw the name on the screen. His mother.
He picked up, visibly annoyed.