I almost said no.
Then I thought of Bellweather Residential Partners.
“Let them come up,” I said. “But only if security stays outside.”
My mother entered first. She wore a cream-colored coat and the diamond earrings Garrett had given her for Christmas. My father followed, pale with anger.
Neither of them moved toward the bed.
My mother’s gaze flickered over the bruising on my arms, then quickly away.
“Charlotte,” she said, “we need to discuss what you’ve done.”
Not what Garrett had done.
What I had done.
My father closed the door, though a security officer remained visible through the glass.
“The bank suspended the closing,” he said. “They’re demanding new proof of funds.”
“I withdrew my guarantee.”
“We know that.”
His voice was low, controlled.
I had feared that voice since childhood. It meant I was being unreasonable. Dramatic. Ungrateful.
It sounded smaller now.
My mother clasped her purse against her stomach.
