My voice remained steady.
“This isn’t a competition. It never was. And you don’t get to turn my home into a battleground because you refuse to accept the word no.”
Vanessa stood motionless, clutching the open gift box.
For the first time since she’d moved in, she had nothing to say.
And I had no desire to give her another opportunity.
“Enjoy your barbecue,” I told her. “And please, keep the box. I think you’ve earned it.”
Irvin squeezed my hand.
We turned and walked toward the gate.
Behind us, the music had stopped.
I heard someone quietly ask whether the grill needed more charcoal.
It was such an ordinary question that I almost laughed again.
Life, apparently, was determined to continue even after Vanessa’s carefully planned afternoon had fallen apart.
Just before we reached the driveway, Irvin leaned toward me.
“Did you put the P.S. in the card?”
