For a second, everything felt unreal.
His mother, Gloria Collins, was sixty-four, sharp-tongued and dramatic, and had spent the last decade treating me like a temporary employee in her son’s life. His younger sister, Melanie, was thirty-four, unemployed, constantly in some self-created crisis, and had already “temporarily” stayed with two cousins, an aunt, and one ex-boyfriend before wearing out her welcome. Derek had mentioned they were “going through a rough time,” but he had never once asked if they could move in.
He had already decided.
And apparently, decided my role too.
I set the champagne on the counter. “You already told them yes?”
“Of course,” he said. “They’re family.”
“So am I.”
He laughed. Actually laughed.
“No, Amanda,” he said, as if explaining something obvious to a child. “You’re the wife. That means you hold this house together. My mother needs help, Melanie needs support, and frankly, someone needs to be here since your little promotion is clearly making you forget what matters.”
My little promotion.
