The coffee table taunts me with its perfect arrangement. That stupid bowl of fake fruit, the precisely fanned magazines, the coasters no one will ever use. It’s all so f*****g civilized while my entire world burns down.
Out of nowhere, an urge overtakes me. I kick it. Hard. The bowl goes flying, fake apples rolling across the hardwood. The magazines scatter. One of the coffee mugs tips, spilling across the glossy wood.
“Feel better?” Medina drawls, not even looking up from his phone.
No. I don’t feel better. I feel trapped and stupid and so angry I could set this whole house on fire. “I—”
“Now, now. Is that any way for a mother-to-be to behave?”
The voice comes from behind me. Familiar but wrong. All f*****g wrong.
I turn slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs.
She stands in th
