He had been drinking since the reception.
Still, I expected him to laugh, tell his mother she was being ridiculous, and close the door.
Instead, he looked at the clothes on the bed.
“Mom asked you to help. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that your mother walked in here on our wedding night and ordered me to wash your family’s clothes.”
“So?”
I stared at him.
“So?”
Lorraine made an exaggerated sigh.
“This is exactly what I warned you about. Girls who grow up without proper families don’t understand respect.”
Owen knew my parents were d.e.a.d.
He knew the subject still hurt.
He said nothing.
That hurt more than Lorraine’s insult.
I picked up the pile of shirts and dropped them onto the floor.
“No.”
Derek laughed.
Lorraine looked horrified.
And Owen’s entire expression changed.
“Pick those up.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Cass.”
There was something in his voice I had never heard before.
Not annoyance.
Authority.
The ugly kind.
I moved toward the bathroom.
He stepped in front of me.
“I said pick them up.”
“And I said no.”
His hand closed around my wrist.
Hard.
My champagne glass slipped from my fingers and shattered against the hardwood.
For a second, everyone froze.
I looked down at his hand.
“Owen. Release me.”
“You embarrassed my mother.”
“She embarrassed herself.”
His grip tightened.
Then Lorraine said quietly:
“Your wife needs to learn what happens when she disrespects her husband.”
That sentence changed something in his face.
Maybe he had always been this man and simply needed permission to show me.
He shoved me backward.
My hip struck the dresser.
Pain shot up my side.
“Owen!”
He lifted one finger inches from my face.
“You are not going to come into my family and start acting like you’re better than everyone.”
