“No,” I said. “I’m respecting your request.”
Her smile returned. “Good. Michael and Lauren are excited.”
“I’m sure they are.”
Two days later, at 7:15 a.m., two moving trucks entered the driveway.
By 7:30, twelve movers were working inside.
By 9:00, the house looked as though my entire life had been lifted out.
My bed. Office equipment. Artwork. Kitchen appliances. Televisions. Dining table. Patio furniture.
Everything belonged to me.
Diane appeared downstairs in her robe and froze.
“What are you doing?”
I handed her an inventory sheet.
“Moving out.”
PART 3
Diane’s confusion quickly turned to fury.
“You can’t take all this!”
“I can,” I said. “I bought it.”
Michael hurried downstairs barefoot. Lauren followed, recording until she noticed movers carrying away the television behind her.
Evan came through the front door after his morning run.
“What the hell is happening?”
I calmly faced him. “Your mother told me to move out. You agreed.”
