Chapter 28

Behind us, Delia drops the pan into the sink, the clatter of cast iron on stainless steel loud in the tiny kitchen.

“Delia!” I shout, growing angry.

“Sorry,” she mutters, sounding anything but. As I watch, she throws the spatula into the sink after the pan, then a handful of silverware, a couple of plastic cups, a plate that I hear crack. I cross the room and grab her elbow before she can dump anything else on top of the dirty dishes. “I don’t want him here,” she says, loud enough that I know he has to have heard her.

Pinching her elbow, I mutter, “I don’t care. What are you going to do, throw him out?” The look on her face suggests that she might do just that, but it dissolves in pain when I tighten my grip on her arm. “Think a minute, Delia. He’s a regulator, you keep saying that yourself. You think he’s going to stand for much more of your attitude?”

“You’re hurting me,” she says, twisting from my hand. “Let me go. I said—”