Mom stepped in to support her. “We were trying to avoid drama. Emma has had a hard year. We didn’t want this turning into one of those evenings where everyone feels uncomfortable.”
I looked at her. “You mean one of those evenings where I exist and you don’t like the reminder.”
Her expression hardened. “That’s not fair.”
But it was. For the past year, ever since Daniel left and moved to Denver with a woman from his office, my mother had acted as if my divorce wasn’t something that happened to me, but something I had dragged into the family home. She never said the worst things outright. She preferred polished phrases. Maybe keep details private. People don’t need to know everything. Melissa’s children need stability right now.
Stability, in my mother’s language, meant appearances.
Dad reached into his pocket and placed his phone on the table. “I found out because Tyler borrowed my iPad last week for school and your messages synced. I wasn’t snooping. They appeared.”
Melissa closed her eyes.
Dad continued, “I would have given you money if you had asked honestly. What I will not do is reward cruelty toward my daughter and granddaughter.”