Victoria laughed — a sharp, furious sound.
“So now you want the family to repay you?”
“No. I wanted the family to say thank you. Since that never happened, from now on everyone covers their own costs.”
David moved toward me, dropping his voice.
“That’s enough.”
“We’re just getting started.”
I walked to the refrigerator and opened it.
The pink labels I had put there earlier were still in place. But overnight I had added more.
On the milk carton: *Chloe.*
On the ham: *Chloe.*
On the block of cheese: *Chloe.*
On the bread: *Chloe.*
On the pot of beans: *Chloe.*
On the water pitcher: *Chloe.*
Victoria pressed a hand to her sternum.
“That is disgusting.”
“You know what’s disgusting? Being called a freeloader by the person whose coffee you’re drinking.”
David reached out and grabbed my arm. Not violently. But with enough pressure to make the intention clear.
I pulled free.
“Don’t ever put your hand on me to silence me again.”
The air in the room dropped several degrees.
The kids stopped asking about food. Sarah quietly found a bag of chips in her purse and sent them out to the patio. For the first time in years, someone else fed their own children inside my house.
David crossed his arms.
“You’re exaggerating. I contribute.”
“Two hundred and fifty dollars a month.”
“That’s something.”
“It’s less than what you spend on craft beer and downloadable game content.”
Ryan let out a low whistle.
“Rough, man.”
