Danilo
My anger came in hot.
Second by second. Like someone was turning a dial in my chest until my ribs hurt. Because this wasn't about Christmas. It wasn't about the carols or Bunky in the barn or the rodeo. This was my marriage. On trial. At my own table.
Kolli cleared his throat beside me.
He did the calm thing. Little smile. Shoulders squared like he was bracing for impact. But I knew him. I saw the red crawling up his neck. I saw how glassy his green-blue eyes got when he was holding back tears.
"Maybe it's not a big deal," he said, voice careful. "Danilo should probably stay for Christmas. It's your birthday too. You should stay with family. I wouldn't want to take you away from them."
"No." It came out sharp. Too sharp. I turned to him. "Don't do that." My throat was tight. "Don't make yourself small so they're comfortable. Not this time."
Kolli's jaw ticked. "I'm not—"
