home too.”
Now twelve people sat beneath the chandelier I’d installed, eating food I’d bought, while my father told me to disappear.
I set down my fork.
“Is that really what you want?”
Diane answered first.
“Don’t make this dramatic, Emily. You’ve never fit here. You’re always keeping score.”
Jason smirked.
“She thinks paying a few bills makes her queen.”
A few bills.
I scanned the dining room.
The roof: mine.
The property taxes: mine.
The insurance: mine.
Even the turkey came from a grocery account linked to my card.
