Everyone blamed her for the heartbreaking death that shattered her husband’s family, and even the man she loved began pulling away. But when his mother’s final wishes were revealed, the truth pointed to someone no one had ever suspected.
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The dining room at Margaret’s house always smelled of rosemary and old wood.
For six years, I had walked into that house every Sunday, and never once had I felt like I belonged there.
That evening was no different, except that Daniel’s hand kept slipping off my knee under the table.
Rachel poured wine without offering me any.
Mark leaned back in his chair, watching me the way a cat watches something small.
“So,” he said, “still keeping my brother on that short leash, are we?”
I smiled the way I had trained myself to smile.
“Daniel’s a grown man, Mark.”
“Debatable.”
Daniel didn’t laugh.
He was pushing food around his plate, checking his phone, then setting it face down as if it had burned him.
His second glass of wine was already half gone, and we hadn’t even finished the first course.