But I hadn't missed the disgust in Johnny's eyes that day.
He recognized me. He just refused to acknowledge me as his mother.
I smiled bitterly, crouched back down, and continued filleting the fish.
Last time I'd watched Johnny sleep, he'd murmured in his dreams about wanting sour cabbage fish.
Before long, Joel stormed into the kitchen, his face dark as a thundercloud.
He grabbed my wrist so hard that the knife sliced across the back of my hand.
I cried out. Blood dripped through my fingers and splattered onto the floor.
His grip on my wrist was crushing, like he wanted to grind the bones to dust.
"Mary! How many times do I have to tell you? Kay and I are just colleagues. Her parents aren't in the country—as her boss, is it so wrong to invite her for New Year's dinner? Why the hell did you hit her?"
I wrenched my hand free, tears spilling down my cheeks.
"It wasn't me!"
Joel's hand flew up. The slap snapped my head to the side.
"Johnny saw the whole thing!" he shouted. "You're his mother—why would he lie to help an outsider hurt you?"
Across the room, Johnny made a face at me and clutched Kay's hand tighter.