Ryan looked as though he had just woken up.
His hair was messy. His T-shirt was wrinkled. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Then he noticed my father.
His expression changed.
Not to concern.
To irritation.
“What’s going on?”
Dad didn’t answer.
I did.
“He’s asking about the money.”
Ryan looked at me.
“What money?”
“My paycheck.”
He sighed.
“Oh, God. We’re doing this again?”
Dad’s eyes narrowed.
“Doing what?”
Ryan leaned against the counter.
“She gets worked up about finances.”
Dad stared at him.
“Where is her paycheck?”
Ryan shrugged.
“I gave most of it to my mother.”
The kitchen went completely silent.
I felt something inside me stop.
Dad slowly turned toward him.
“You gave your wife’s paycheck to your mother?”
“She needed it.”
“Did Laya agree?”
Ryan hesitated.
Then he shrugged again.
“We’re married.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“That wasn’t my question.”
Ryan rolled his eyes.
“We share everything.”
