Brent turned his head slowly. “Excuse me?”
The silence around the table pulled tight.
Emily swallowed. “I said that’s not true. I handle the rent, the groceries, your dry cleaning, the insurance—”
Before she could finish, Brent’s hand shot out.
He seized a fistful of her hair near the back of her head and yanked.
Emily cried out, sharp and broken. Her chair scraped against the floor. Several diners turned. A waiter froze beside a nearby table, balancing a tray of plates in both hands. HomeFurnishings
Brent leaned close to her ear, still gripping her hair. “Don’t embarrass me in public.”
For one second, the entire world went perfectly still.
Then Diane clapped.
She actually clapped.
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