And one for Claire.
I rested my palm against my stomach.
Our baby moved softly beneath my hand.
That tiny kick steadied me.
“I’m sorry,” I
said evenly. “Which part exactly are you angry about?”
Mark stared at me.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
I glanced around the table.
Rachel, his sister, was staring down at the envelope in front of her.
Daniel had already opened his.
Elaine, Mark’s mother, had one hand pressed over her mouth.
Claire was the only person who still seemed amused.
Barely.
Because she hadn’t opened her envelope yet.
“Go ahead,” I said to her.
Her expression shifted.
“Open it.”
Mark brought his palm down against the table.
“No one opens another envelope.”
