“There you are,” Daniel said, lowering the laptop lid halfway and pulling out the heavy oak chair beside his.

His voice was soft and gentle, without a trace of the sharp edge he’d used at two in the morning.

I sat down on the cane-bottomed chair and laid my hands flat on the polished wood.

He reached across the table and covered my right hand with his warm fingers.

“I know last night felt extreme, Mariana,” he said, looking straight into my eyes.

“My mother has strong ideas about how a household should run, but we both know she only wants what’s best for this family.”