“That child grabbed food from Tyler,” she said. “She needed correction.”
“She needed words,” I said. “She needed an adult. She needed the grown woman in this room not to hit her.”
Sarah gave a dry laugh.
“You baby her because she’s yours. Girls need to learn early where they stand.”
There it was.
Not discipline.
Not frustration.
Contempt.
The thing underneath every little comment, every smaller portion, every sigh when Olivia reached for my hand.
I stood up.
Olivia whimpered, so I settled her into the armchair and put the stuffed bear under her elbow.
“Stay right there, sweetheart,” I said softly. “Mommy is here.”
Then I turned back to Sarah.
“Emily,” Sarah warned, using my name like she owned it.
I raised my hand and slapped her.
The sound cracked through the living room.
Sarah stumbled back, clutching her cheek.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked truly shocked.
