Chapter 3 - The Furious Husband
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“Are you out of your mind?!” Garrett bellowed, slamming the door behind him.
I didn't flinch. I took a slow sip of my coffee, leaning back against the marble kitchen island. “Good morning to you too, Garrett. I see Tabitha got ahold of you.”
“You left my sister with three kids out on the street?!” He threw his briefcase onto the sofa, marching toward me with a look of pure disbelief.
“She’s not on the street,” I replied calmly. “She’s in the lobby, which is air-conditioned and has very nice leather chairs. I told her to find a hotel.”
“She’s my sister! A pipe burst in her kitchen! She needed help, and you slammed the door in her face!”
“She demanded to move in for a week without a text, a call, or a shred of basic respect,” I countered, setting my mug down. “I have back-to-back presentations this entire week. I cannot have three screaming toddlers treating my workspace like a playground.”
Garrett ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen floor. “You work from home! You can just take a few days off, or work from the bedroom. She’s family, Maya. You don't turn away family.”
“Family asks,” I said quietly. “Family respects boundaries. And this is my home. If you wanted to run a hotel for your relatives, you should have consulted me.”
“Our home,” he corrected sharply, his eyes narrowing.
“My name is on the deed, Garrett. Exclusively.”
He stopped pacing, his jaw working furiously. That was the one fact he hated being reminded of. I was the breadwinner. I was the homeowner.
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“You’re going to call her right now, apologize, and tell her she can stay in the guest room,” he ordered.
“No,” I said softly. “I’m not. And if you try to sneak her in, I’ll have the building concierge escort her out.”
