Chapter 3 - The Dinner PrepWhen I returned to the condo at 4:00 PM, Garrett’s luxury sedan was already parked in my assigned garage space.
I parked on the street, took a deep breath, and walked up the stairs to the third floor.
The moment I opened the front door, the smell of heavy garlic, roasted meat, and cheap floral perfume hit me. The quiet, serene sanctuary I had bought and decorated five years ago had been turned upside down.
Unpacked suitcases sat in the entryway. Tabitha’s two energetic dogs were racing across my light oak hardwood floors, their unclipped nails leaving faint scratches on the finish. In the kitchen, Lorraine was barking orders at Garrett while rearranging my pantry shelves.
"There she is!" Lorraine announced, setting a stack of my handmade ceramic plates onto the counter with a loud clack. "The birthday girl finally decides to show up in her own home!"
Garrett stepped out of the kitchen, wearing his work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He offered me a forced, tense smile and reached out to kiss my cheek. I instinctively leaned back slightly, making his kiss land on air.
Garrett’s eyes narrowed. "Where have you been, Maya? My mother and Tabitha have been here since two. You didn't answer your phone."
"I had an appointment downtown," I said calmly, setting my purse on the entryway table.
Tabitha strolled out of the guest room, clutching a glass of my expensive Pinot Noir. "An appointment on your birthday afternoon? You work too much, Maya. Honestly, it’s unhealthy. You should learn to delegate."
"This is my wine from the cellar rack, Tabitha," I observed smoothly, my voice devoid of anger. "The bottle my father gave me for my master's graduation."
Tabitha scoffed, looking at her mother. "See? I told you she’d keep score. It’s just grape juice, Maya."
"It was a nineteen-ninety-eight vintage, Tabitha," I replied flatly. "It cost four hundred dollars."
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The room went dead quiet. Tabitha’s cheeks flushed red, while Lorraine set her wooden spoon down with a heavy thud against the marble island.
"Garrett," Lorraine snapped, her eyes fixed on me with pure distaste. "Your wife has been through the door for two minutes, and she’s already insulting your sister over a beverage. Is this how she treats guests in your home?"
