“I sent your mother something yesterday.”
I lowered my coffee.
“What?”
“A package.”
I stared at him.
“Why would you send my mother a package?”
“Because there was something I needed her to have.”
“What kind of something?”
He took a breath.
“Something I should have returned years ago.”
My stomach tightened.
For five years, Ethan had endured my mother’s insults without responding in kind. He had never embarrassed her, never exposed her hypocrisy, and never demanded that I defend him at the expense of our relationship.
Had he finally reached his limit?
Before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
MOM.
I answered.
“Hi, Mom. Happy—”
“Olivia, why would Ethan send me this?”
Her voice trembled.
I sat upright.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why would he do this to me?”
“Do what?”
I looked at Ethan.
He held out his hand.
“Put her on speaker.”
I hesitated, then did as he asked.
