by phone.
“I’ll communicate through counsel about the children.”
His tone changed.
“Counsel?”
“Yes.”
“You’re serious?”
I stared at my parents’ Christmas tree.
“I was serious when I asked you to stay home.”
“Lauren—”
“I was serious when I asked about Sierra.”
“Nothing happened with Sierra.”
I closed my eyes.
“I have the photograph.”
“That photograph looks worse than it was.”
Mother recoiled.
I remained oddly calm.
“Is that what you’re going with?”
“There were people in the suite.”
“Not in the photograph.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know your
