I let out a short laugh, without humor. “This is bothering me.”
Her gaze slid around my apartment, like she was already imagining it rearranged around her. “You’ll survive.”
My skin felt too tight, like my body knew something was happening that my mind still didn’t want to accept. The second bedroom. My office. My space. The place where I took client calls and built campaign reports and tried to keep my career moving forward.
“I use the second bedroom as my home office,” I said. “I work from home two days a week.”
“So work at the kitchen table those days,” Vanessa said immediately, as if she’d already decided that solution was perfect. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts. “It’s my home. My routine. My job.”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed. “God, you’re always so intense.”
“I’m intense because you just showed up unannounced and declared you live here.”
“Because I do,” she said, and then she reached for her phone. “Let’s ask Mom. Since you love rules so much.”
The panic in my stomach turned cold. I watched her thumb through her contacts, watched her tap our mother’s name with the confidence of someone who had never been told no in any way that mattered.
She put it on speaker.
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