He looked past me. He saw the trash bags and the girls.
“You’re not going back to beg.”
His jaw tightened.
“Get in the car, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “We’re going to show Derek and Patricia what’s really coming for them.”
I took a step back.
“I’m not going back there,” I said. “I can’t.”
“You’re not going back to beg,” he said. “You’re coming with me. There’s a difference.”
My mom came up behind me. “If you’re here to drag her—”
“What did they say?”
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“I’m not,” he cut in. “They told me she ‘stormed out.’ Then I got home and saw four pairs of shoes missing and her vitamins in the trash. I’m not stupid.”
We loaded the girls into his truck.
Two car seats, one booster. I climbed into the front, heart pounding, hand on my belly.
We drove in silence for a bit.
“What did they say?” I asked.
He opened the front door without knocking.
“They said you ran home to your parents to sulk,” he said. “Said you couldn’t handle ‘consequences.'”
I laughed bitterly. “Consequences for what? Having daughters?”
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He shook his head. “No. Consequences for them.”
We pulled into the driveway.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
He opened the front door without knocking.
Derek paused his game.
Patricia was at the table. Derek was on the couch.
Patricia’s face twisted into a smug smile when she saw me.
“Oh,” she said. “You brought her back. Good. Maybe now she’s ready to behave.”
Michael didn’t look at her.
“Did you put my granddaughters and my pregnant daughter-in-law on the porch?” he asked Derek.
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Derek paused his game. “She left,” he said. “Mom just helped her. She’s being dramatic.”
“I know what I said.”
Michael stepped closer.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Derek shrugged. “I’m done, Dad. She’s had four chances. I need a son. She can go to her parents if she can’t do her job.”
“Her job,” Michael repeated. “You mean giving you a boy.”
Patricia jumped in. “He deserves an heir, Michael. You always said—”
“I know what I said,” he cut her off. “I was wrong.”
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