I said nothing.
She walked toward the kitchen.
Then she opened one of our cabinets.
“These should be over here.”
She moved a stack of serving plates.
I stared at her.
“Claire?”
She looked over her shoulder.
“Yes?”
“Please don’t rearrange anything.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
Then she rearranged another cabinet.
I clenched my jaw.
A few minutes later, she started moving the place cards around the dining table.
“Mark should sit at the head.”
“He’s the birthday person.”
“Exactly.”
She picked up my place card.
“This should go here.”
She placed it farther away.
Then she took another card.
“And I’ll sit here.”
She pulled out the chair beside Mark.
My chair.
“That’s where I’m sitting,” I said.
Claire looked at me.
Then smiled.
“There’s plenty of space.”
She tilted her head.
“Are you really that insecure?”
I felt my face burn.
I wanted to throw her out.
Instead, I looked toward the hallway.
Mark was standing there.
Watching.
Waiting.
I expected him to defend me.
He didn’t.
He simply said,
“Ladies, tonight is supposed to be about my birthday.”
That was when I understood something.
Mark wasn’t confused.
He was allowing this.
Dinner began at seven.
