That was her first answer.
Not no.
Not what are you talking about?
“It was clean.”
He set the bowl down.
“Did you tell her to eat from it?”
Marissa removed her sunglasses completely.
“She was having a tantrum.”
“Answer.”
“She refused lunch.”
“Did you tell her to eat from it?”
Marissa exhaled.
“I was trying to make a point.”
Grant stared.
“To a six-year-old.”
“She is almost seven.”
He could not believe the correction.
“What point?”
“That if she wants to behave like a spoiled child who demands attention every time she doesn’t get what she wants, there are consequences.”
“Why a dog bowl?”
“She kept saying Otis was the only one who understood her.”
Grant’s expression changed.
“What?”
Marissa looked away.
“She was being dramatic.”
“She’s six.”
“And you use that to excuse everything.”
Grant stared.
“Did you want a picture?”
Marissa looked back.
For the first time, real alarm.
“Of what?”
“Her sitting beside the bowl.”
“No.”
“Ellie says you told her to wait because you were getting your phone.”
Marissa’s mouth tightened.
“That is not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I wanted to document the behavior.”
There.
Grant felt nauseated.
“For whom?”
Marissa crossed her arms.
“This is ridiculous.”
“For whom?”
“Michael.”
“Trent.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he is helping us.”
“With what?”
She looked at him as though the answer were obvious.
“With her.”
Grant became very still.
“Our daughter is not a corporate problem.”
“I did not say she was.”
“You’re paying a consultant to build behavior records.”
“We are paying him to help this family transition.”
“I’m not paying him.”
Marissa hesitated.
“We are married.”
“That was not my question.”
Grant stepped closer.
“How much?”
“This is not about money.”
“How much?”
She looked away.
“Eighty-six thousand.”
Grant stared.
“For what?”
“Ten months of family strategy.”
He laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
“Family strategy.”
Marissa’s face reddened.
“You mocked therapy for two years.”
“I have never mocked therapy.”
“You mocked Michael.”
“I mocked a man who called breakfast ‘domestic culture architecture.’”
Despite herself, Marissa almost smiled.
It vanished.
Grant continued.
“Did you apply to Brunswick Academy?”
She said nothing.
“Did you tell Ellie I wanted her there?”
“I said we were considering options.”
“We weren’t.”
“We should have been.”
“Why?”
“She needs structure.”
“She attends one of the best schools in the country.”
“She needs emotional structure.”
“What does that mean?”
“You are gone constantly.”
Grant flinched.
Marissa saw it.