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“She’s freaking out about some wedding payment thing.”
“The card was declined because I closed your access to my accounts,” I said, setting my purse on the counter. “And I’m aware of Zoe’s situation.”
“Oh my god, Sandy, you scared us. Jerry thought maybe you’d had a stroke or something, making such weird financial decisions.”
Weird financial decisions. This 26-year-old woman who contributed nothing to my household had an opinion about my financial decisions.
“Rebecca,” I said quietly, “I need you to gather your things and leave.”
She laughed. “What? Why?”
“Because this is my home and you don’t live here.”
Jerry finally looked up from his phone.
“Mom, what’s gotten into you today? You’re acting crazy.”
“I’m acting like someone who owns her own house and manages her own finances.”
Jerry—”
Rebecca looked to my son, expecting him to intervene. Jerry stood up, his jaw set in the stubborn expression I remembered from his teenage years. “Mom, stop it.
You’re embarrassing yourself. Rebecca is my girlfriend and she’s welcome here.”
“Not anymore.”
“This is ridiculous. Over what?
Some credit card mix-up? Zoe will pay you back. She always does.”
I turned to face my son fully.
The loan for her master’s degree that was supposed to be temporary.”
“That’s different. That’s what parents do.”
“No,” I said. “That’s what I did.”
Past tense.
Rebecca had gone very still. The smoothie forgotten. “Maybe I should go,” she said quietly.
“Yes,” I agreed. “You should.”
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