“Are we splitting up?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he said, offering a small, reassuring smile.

“But a marriage is a partnership. We should share everything.”

I looked past him toward the hallway.

From the living room, I heard the loud clatter of Solene’s ceramic mugs.

She was dragging a heavy wooden chair across the pine floorboards.

The sound of the wood scraping made my stomach turn.

“Your mother is ruining this place,” I said, pointing toward the noise.

“She moved my grandmother’s vanity into the damp basement.”

“She scratched the finish on the staircase moving her trunks.”

“And your cousins have been treating the parlor like a hotel lobby.”

Rylan didn’t flinch.

He watched me with cool, detached eyes.

“They are just guests, Calla,” he said.

“They are your family,” I said. “And you invited them to push me out.”

“They are here because I wanted to feel like this was my home too,” he said.

He tapped his finger on the legal document.

“But we can fix that.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m willing to make a deal,” he said.