“The box is just proof.”
Adele opened her folder and slid out a printed message.
“She wrote me two weeks ago.”
I took the page.
Maya had told Adele that I was bitter, that I’d made things difficult, that I’d kept the girls close only to punish her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted to know what she was doing first.”
“She wrote me two weeks ago.”
“And now?”
“Now I know.”
Jerome, Adele’s fiancé, walked into the kitchen carrying seating cards and paused when he caught our expressions.
“Bad time?”
Adele glanced at him. “My mother texted Dad.”
Jerome set the cards down. “She’s coming?”
“My mother texted Dad.”
“With Harry,” Adele said. “And I need the box.”
I looked at him. “Don’t get dragged into this.”
“I’m marrying into this family in three days,” he said. “I think the dragging already happened.”
