My fork stopped halfway to my mouth, and even Austin frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. I just think some women waste money on things nobody sees.”
I had never discussed my undergarments with Kathryn. She had only one way of knowing what I owned.
That night I told Austin.
“My underwear drawer keeps getting rearranged after she visits.”
He was on the couch with his phone, half listening before I even opened my mouth.
“Your mother is going through my dresser.”
He sighed. “No, she isn’t.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Why would she care?”
“My underwear drawer keeps getting rearranged after she visits.”
“If she wants to check that you’re taking proper care of our home, she has every right to.”
That finally got his attention, but not in the way I hoped. He looked annoyed, like I had handed him a problem too petty to justify his time.
