It wasn’t much of an apology, but at least she wasn’t pretending she’d done nothing wrong.

“Did Patrick mention any other plans?”

“He said you’d take the children out tomorrow.”

I stared at her.

Sunday was my only day off.

It wasn’t much of an apology.

***

When we returned, Patrick was playing cards with Kevin.

Linda glanced at me.

“What else did Patrick promise you?”

She frowned.

“Breakfast, somewhere comfortable to sleep, and a nice weekend together.”

Linda glanced at me.

“Anything else?”

“An outing for the children.”

Patrick set down his cards.

“Can we stop turning every little thing into a problem?”

I looked at the cards.

“Anything else?”

“You’ve had time to play all afternoon. Who’s taking the children out tomorrow?”

He glanced at Kylie.

“I thought you’d all enjoy going somewhere.”

“Did you ask Kylie what she wanted?”

Kylie shook her head.

He glanced at Kylie.

“I’d actually prefer a quiet morning.”

Linda stood.

“Well, somebody should’ve made proper plans.”

I looked around the room.

“Did anyone think about booking a hotel?”

Linda stood.

Patrick answered before anyone else could speak.

“Nobody wanted one.”

Robert glanced toward Linda.

It was a small look, but I noticed.

***

That evening, I found my pillow on the couch.

It was a small look.

Patrick was brushing his teeth.

“Linda wants us to visit next month,” he said.

“Does she?”

“She mentioned having everyone over for dinner.”

“Who’s cooking?”

Patrick was brushing his teeth.

He gave me a look.

“Can’t you ever just enjoy something with my family?”

“I’ve cooked for them. I’ve hosted birthdays. I even helped Kylie shower for a week after she gave birth.”

“And you complained about it afterward.”

“I’ve cooked for them.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

I’d complained about his family’s demands before. Once, I’d even refused a dinner invitation without explaining why.

But I’d never stopped Patrick from seeing them.

“Then maybe you should volunteer yourself next time.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

He turned away.

I settled onto the couch.

Later, I heard Linda complaining that I’d made her feel unwelcome.

Patrick promised he’d handle me.

I stared at the ceiling.

He turned away.

When had I become someone my husband needed to handle?

***

On Sunday morning, Linda was searching through our cupboards.

“Where’s the coffee?”

“Top shelf.”

“Aren’t you making breakfast?”

“There’s cereal and bread.”

“Aren’t you making breakfast?”