Chapter 5: The Group Chat
The text came at 7:14 the next morning.
I was still in my robe, holding a cup of coffee, when my phone lit up with a message from a number I didn't recognize.
Then another.
Then three more in quick succession.
Chris's family had a group chat.
I had never been added to it.
But Donna had apparently decided to screenshot her messages and send them to me directly.
The first one was a photo of her bill from the night before, circled in red marker.
The second was a voice message.
I didn't play it.
I could guess.
The third was a text that read: *You humiliated this family on my father-in-law's birthday.
I hope you're proud of yourself.
Don't expect to be welcome at any family event after this.*
The fourth was from a number labeled "Paul's Wife" in my contacts.
It said only: *Donna speaks for all of us.*
I set my phone face-down on the counter.
Chris came downstairs ten minutes later.
He poured himself coffee and stood at the kitchen island reading his own phone.
His face was doing the same complicated thing Gary's had done the night before.
"They're upset," he said.
"I gathered."
"Donna wants a family meeting."
I looked at him over my coffee cup.
"About what?"
"About — " He gestured vaguely.
"About last night.
About how things work going forward."
"How things work," I repeated.
"With the dinners.
With — the arrangement."
"The arrangement," I said.
"You mean the arrangement where I pay for everyone."
He set his phone down.
"Nora."
"I want to hear you say what the arrangement is, Chris.
Out loud.
I want to hear you describe it."
He was quiet.
"Because if you can't say it out loud," I said, "then maybe you already know it was never a reasonable arrangement to begin with."
He picked up his coffee.
Drank.
Set it down.
"I'll tell Donna the meeting isn't necessary," he said.
"You can tell Donna whatever you'd like," I said.
"But I'll say this once, clearly, so there's no confusion later.
I will never pay for the whole table again.
Not at a birthday dinner.
Not at Christmas.
Not at any occasion.
If that changes how welcome I am at family events, then that tells me everything I need to know about why I was welcome in the first place."
Chris looked at me for a long moment.
"I'll call her," he said quietly.
He took his coffee and his phone into the other room.
I stood at the counter and listened to the silence of the kitchen.
Outside the window, a neighbor was walking a dog.
Ordinary morning.
Ordinary street.
My phone lit up again.
This time it was a number I didn't have saved.
The message was four words long.
*We need to talk.*
I turned the phone over and looked at the name Chris had said before he left the room.
May you like
It wasn't Donna.
It was Frank.
