Brenda had arrived at our doorstep without any advance warning, and she was already wearing my favorite plush bathrobe.

“She will be staying here with us for a few months,” Gavin announced while standing in the hallway.

“You did not even ask me about this first,” I replied quietly.

He stepped much closer to me, narrowing his eyes.

“I do not need your permission to bring my own mother into my house.”

Except the reality was that it was not his house at all.

He pointed a finger aggressively toward the kitchen doorway.

“Oatmeal.

No sugar.

Then go get her pills and a hot cup of coffee.”

Brenda folded her arms over her chest with a smug grin.

“A truly good wife would already have breakfast ready on the table.”

I looked straight at Gavin, feeling six long years of continuous fear suddenly turn into a heavy weight that was finally breaking.

“No,” I said clearly.