“And is it also true that you have no plans to marry, or to ever have children?”

Fury singed through my veins, lighting tiny fires throughout my body. No longer satisfied by my brother’s passive nodding, I whirled on Michael again, my long black hair swinging out behind me. “Why are they asking me this crap? It’s none of their business, nor is it even vaguely related to what happened to Andrew. Shouldn’t you…object, or something?”

“This isn’t a court of law, Faythe,” Michael reminded me for at least the hundredth time. “They can ask you anything they want. The best way to help yourself right now is to answer their questions.” With as little information as possible.

I’d heard that line often enough to know what he wasn’t saying, and to know that the unspoken part applied as much then as it ever had.

Unsatisfied by his answer, I dismissed Michael entirely, focusing on my father instead. “Daddy?” I begged him with my eyes to step in. To somehow liberate me from the indignity of discussing my sex life—or lack thereof—in front of a trio of old men, two of whom I barely knew. But there was nothing he could do, and we all knew it. He shook his head, the opposite of Michael’s typical response, but it meant the same thing: answer the question.

Beyond angry, I tried to relax, sinking into my chair as if there were nowhere else I’d rather be. “Yes. I am no longer in a romantic relationship, and at the present, I have no plans to marry. Or have children. And for the record, I object to this entire line of questioning on the basis of relevance.”

Michael coughed to disguise a laugh, and Malone frowned, already opening his mouth to ask another question. Fortunately, Uncle Rick stepped in again, eyeing me intently, as if to tell me something other than what he was about to say aloud. “But are you prepared to swear right now that you will never, under any circumstances, marry and start a family?”

“No, of course not.” I shrugged. “I can’t say for sure what I want for dinner tonight, so how can you possibly expect me to know whether or not I’m going to want kids five years from now?”

My father chuckled quietly, and Uncle Rick smiled. I must have done something right.

Malone scowled again. “Is it true that even in your relationship with Marc Ramos, you took active measures to prevent pregnancy?”

My hand clenched around the arm of the chair, and distantly I heard wood creak. My teeth ground together audibly. “You have no right to ask me these da—”

“Gentlemen, I think we’re ready for a break.” Michael stood, pulling me up with him. “Thirty minutes?”

“Of course,” Uncle Rick said, just as Malone said, “Ten.”