“When the hell were you going to tell me that you got a divorce?” I snap, trying to catch my breath. She doesn’t seem surprised that I know. I think she’s too tired at this point. Or she just doesn’t care. I’m not sure which one I’d rather it be. “Emilee…” she says softly. “Don’t do that.” I shake my head. “Don’t talk to me like I’m five, Mother. You got a divorce,” I growl. “A divorce? Why? What…?”
