“That isn’t a marriage, Peter, that’s emotional terrorism against your wife and your child,” I told him, stepping down the last two stairs into the kitchen.

Gretchen was standing near the foot of the staircase, having put both sleeping twins down in their portable cribs in the next room.

“Are you finally done screaming at your husband, and has he talked some common sense into that stubborn head of yours, Claire?” Gretchen asked with a haughty glare.

I stopped right in front of her and looked her dead in the eye without blinking.

“Joanie knows the truth now, Gretchen, and she won’t be driving down here on Saturday, which means Austin isn’t going anywhere,” I said with complete clarity.