“You’ve decided,” I repeated slowly, grabbing onto the only part that made sense.
“The family has decided,” Dad corrected with the smooth authority of someone accustomed to having his decisions accepted without question. “We have to think about what’s best for everyone.”
Eric stopped pacing and leaned an arm casually on the mantel, that familiar smug expression settling over his features like a mask he’d practiced in mirrors. “Come on, Cass. Don’t make this difficult.”
My head whipped toward him. “Difficult?”
“You’re single. No kids. Good job.” He ticked off each item on his fingers like he was presenting evidence in court. “You can rent anywhere. Shannon and I need the space for a nursery, and we can’t afford market rate for a two-bedroom downtown.”
“And I can?” I asked, voice tight.
“You make more than we do,” Shannon piped up, cheeks flushing pink when all eyes swung to her. “Eric told me about your salary. You’re doing fine financially.”
My jaw actually ached as I clamped it shut. Eric had never asked me what I earned. I certainly had never told him. The thought of him sitting at their cramped kitchen table, speculating about my income with his wife like it was dinner conversation—Guess how much Cassie makes!—made something hot and electric spark in my chest.
“My finances,” I said carefully, each word deliberate, “are not up for family discussion.”
“When they affect family resources, they are,” Dad replied, his tone sharpening like a blade being drawn. “The apartment belongs to the family trust. Your grandfather intended it to serve the family’s needs. Right now, Eric and Shannon need it most.”
