Chapter 2

Within ten minutes, the guests made hurried excuses, grabbed their coats, and fled into the night.

"Pack a bag and go to a hotel," Mark said the second the front door clicked shut.

He stood at the base of the staircase, arms crossed over his chest.

He didn't ask how the funeral went. He didn't ask how I survived the hardest year of my life.

"Sophie is terrified," Mark continued, his voice sharp and cold. "You ruined her birthday party. She needs stability, Lena. Not an absentee mother dropping out of the sky."

In the kitchen, Claire was still wiping down the marble island. She had taken off the apron, but she was casually loading my dishwasher.

"Mark is right, Lena," Claire called out softly. "Sophie just got used to a peaceful routine. Your sudden presence is overwhelming her. A hotel is the smartest choice for everyone right now."

"For everyone?" I asked, walking into the living room. "Or for you?"

"Don't start twisting things," Mark snapped, stepping directly into my path. "Claire has been holding this family together for twelve months while you were away. You don't get to march back in here and disrupt our lives."

"YOUR lives?" I looked between them. "You sound like a married couple."

"Because we functioned like one while you abandoned your responsibilities!" Mark yelled. "I had a business to run! Sophie needed a parent! Claire stepped in when you walked out!"

"I was nursing my dying mother, Mark," I said, my voice dropping dangerously low. "You knew that. You screened my calls. You hid the letters I sent to Sophie."

"Sophie didn't want to read them!" Mark fired back. "She was angry at you! Now be sensible. Go to the hotel downtown. We'll talk about visitation next week."

Visitation.

The word was a slap across the face, but my eyes didn't even blink.

I looked down at my left hand. I twisted the platinum wedding band off my fourth finger.

I tossed it onto the glass coffee table.

Clink.

The heavy metal ring spun twice before settling between us.

Mark stared at it, his jaw dropping. "What is that?"

"Our marriage is over, Mark," I said, looking right through him.

"Lena, stop being dramatic -- "

"I'm not being dramatic. I'm stating a fact."

I turned my back on him and walked straight into the kitchen.

I stopped two inches in front of Claire.

I held out my open palm. "Give them to me."

Claire blinked, clutching her designer handbag against her stomach. "Give you what?"

"My spare house keys," I said.

"Lena," Claire forced a nervous laugh. "I need those keys. I take Sophie to dance class on Thursdays. I do the morning carpool. Mark relies on me -- "

"My keys. Put them in my hand right now."

Claire looked past me to Mark, waiting for him to save her. But Mark was still staring at the wedding ring on the glass table, paralyzed.

Slowly, Claire reached into her purse. She pulled out the brass keychain and dropped it into my palm.

The metal was cold. I closed my fingers around it.

"This house was bought by my family," I said, my voice dropping to an icy whisper. "The deed is in my name. The person who needs to pack a bag and get out isn't me."

Claire's face burned crimson with humiliation. She grabbed her coat and rushed toward the door without another word. The heavy front door slammed shut behind her.

Mark rounded on me, the veins bulging on his neck. "You think you won something? I live here too, Lena! You can't just kick people out of my life!"

"Try me," I whispered.

Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Sophie's bedroom door opened a crack.

Mark caught himself, glancing nervously up toward the landing.

"Fine," Mark spat under his breath, his fists clenching tight. "I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. But don't get comfortable, Lena. You have no idea what you've walked into."

He stormed down the hall and slammed the guest room door.

I stood alone in the dark hallway, holding the brass keys tight in my fist.