The argument was escalating. I drew a long breath. "Forget it, Dad. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."
Christine's face pinched with discomfort. "Lola... the guest room is packed with Leo's old toys. It hasn't been cleaned out yet."
"Then where am I supposed to sleep?"
She pointed toward the far end of the hallway. "I moved your things into the storage room. Why don't you sleep there tonight?"
I laughed—the kind of laugh that comes when you're too angry to do anything else.
"The storage room is barely fifty square feet. It doesn't even have a window. You expect me to sleep in there?"
Vivian strolled over with Leo on her hip, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
"No window? Then go sleep on the third floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows, plus a skylight in the ceiling. You can stargaze before bed."
Christine actually nodded along. "She's right, the third floor has a lovely view—"
I looked straight at her. "If the third floor is so wonderful, why don't we move Vivian up there instead?"
Christine waved her hands frantically.
"That won't work. There's no heating or air conditioning on the third floor—it's below freezing up there. It'll make Leo sick..."