I’d spent six years not
making scenes.
He had no idea what I was like when I finally decided to make one.
Chapter 2: Not Your Kitchen Anymore
The next morning, I came downstairs to find Sharon and my father-in-law, Ron, wrapping my dishes in newspaper.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Getting ready to move in, obviously,” Sharon said.
“You’re packing my kitchen.”
She laughed. “Not your kitchen anymore, dear.”
I turned to Jarrod in the doorway, pleased as a cat in cream.
“You’re actually letting them?”
“Don’t start. I told you how it’s going to be.”
“And what,” Sharon smirked, setting down a plate, “do you think you’re going to do about it? We’re moving in whether you like it or not.”
I looked at the boxes. I looked at my husband.
And instead of screaming, I smiled, said I needed some air, and walked out to my car.
