The blood loss and bourbon cocktail have made me light-headed. “I just don’t trust these people.”

“All right, then.” He pours a drink for himself, then slams the bottle on the counter with enough force to hurt my ears. “Don’t take the job. We’ll deal with the AC when my direct deposit comes through next week, you can put your goddamned bracelet back on, and we’ll all go back to exactly the way we were this morning.”

“Fuck you.”

He’s mad, he’s hurt, and he’s frustrated. None of this justifies the next words out of his mouth, though, the ones he will never be able to take back, the ones that slice deeper than any shard of broken glass and make me bleed all over.

“You know, babe, I wonder if it was better when you didn’t talk.”

Chapter Fifteen

FIFTEEN

Even without the metal contraption on my wrist, dinner is a quiet affair tonight.

Steven, normally garrulous in between forkfuls of food, hasn’t mentioned school or Julia King or soccer. The twins seem confused and shift a little in their chairs. Sonia alternates between staring at her plate and staring at my left wrist, but she’s been silent since she got home from school. Another thing—there hasn’t been a single fist bump between her and Steven.

As for Patrick, he eats, takes his plate into the kitchen, and escapes to his study with a tumbler of bourbon and a few curt words about having to meet a deadline. It’s impossible to tell whom he’s more angry with—me, or himself.

“You explain it to them, Jean,” he says before shutting the door to that book-lined sanctuary of his.

Well, this is awkward.

I haven’t had a real conversation with my kids for more than a year. What once would have been an animated debate over whether Pokémon Go was a time waster or the cleverest innovation in gaming since Xbox is now four young faces staring in silent expectation. And I’m the main event.

I might as well get it over with.

“So, Steven, what’s going on at school these days?” I say.

“Two exams tomorrow.” It’s as if he’s the one with the daily word quota.

“Want me to help you study?”

“Nah. I’m cool.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Thanks anyway.”

Sam and Leo are slightly more eager, pummeling me with news of their new soccer coach and how they played a trick at practice this morning, each one pretending to be the other. The two of them do most of the talking. I suppose that’s what they’ve grown used to.