process it.
“This is my lease.”
Dad frowned.
“Don’t reduce family to paperwork.”
“I pay almost nine thousand dollars every month.”
“There you go again,” he snapped. “Making everything about money.”
Logan leaned back in the dining chair I had purchased.
“You’re barely here anyway. You work constantly.”
“I work constantly because I pay for this place.”
Madison placed one perfectly manicured hand over Dad’s wrist.
“Transitions can feel threatening, Evelyn. Sometimes loving people means making room for their next chapter.”
I looked at the champagne.
The fabric samples.
The
