The waitress set the black folder beside Megan.
Megan opened it.
Looked at the total.
Then slid it across the table toward me.
“Could you get this one?”
I laughed.
I thought she was joking.
She wasn’t.
“What?”
“You’ve barely paid for anything at family dinners lately.”
“Megan, you invited us and said it was your treat.”
“Come on. It’s one dinner.”
I opened the folder.
The total was just under $700.
Jake frowned.
“Megan, you said you were paying.”
“I changed my mind.”
My mom said quietly, “Megan, that’s not really fair.”
Megan gave a little shrug. “I’ve covered plenty of things before.”
I had no idea what she was talking about.
We didn’t even eat together that often.
And when we did, I usually paid for myself.
But now everyone was staring.
The waitress was standing several feet away, pretending not to notice.
I could feel the entire table becoming uncomfortable.
I should have refused.
But I hate public arguments.
Especially family arguments.
Especially arguments where someone has already decided that embarrassing you will make you give in.
So, against my better judgment, I handed the waitress my card.
Megan smiled. “Thank you. Seriously.”
I didn’t answer.
I was still angry when we got up to leave that I barely said goodbye to anyone.
