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“He refused to get treatment after well, you know and um,” she stared at me, well, it felt like she stared through me. “He got a really bad infection that spread and, well, um, he died.”

She was serious. He had actually died.

I shook my head. “When was the funeral?” How had this all happened without me knowing? Without any of us knowing.

“There wasn’t one. Mom joined this new religion, and um,” she started ripping the bread apart, “She held a very private burial that just her and my uncles attended.”

“You didn’t attend his funeral?”

“No. I didn’t go.”

Because of me. They had punished her because of me. How could they hold her responsible? I removed his hand. He was the stubborn bastard that chose not to get it treated.

“Whose decision was it for you not to attend the funeral?”

“Mom took his death really hard.” she dropped the bread roll to a plate and pretended she was finished eating it. “But I didn’t mind. Two funerals were enough.”

“Two funerals?”

“Aunty Diana overdosed after Nate's wake.” She pushed the plate away from her. “Zeke is pretty fucked up. Can I have that?”

I had no idea what she was pointing at. “What?”

“The vodka. Can I please have it?”

How many days had it been since she ate real food? I uncrossed my arms. “Sure, if you eat something first.”

Now that did cause her to look at me. Fuck. I had missed her. I’d take her annoyed or angry with me over nothing. I’d take anything over that blank, cold stare.

She placed a grape in her mouth, eating it and swallowing it.

“Good, keep going.”

“Only if we talk about something else.” Her fingers paused on the fruit. “Anything but my family, please.”

I nodded.

She looked instantly relieved, reaching for another grape.

“What happened to your engagement ring?” I had noticed it was missing yesterday.

“I lost it.”

Madeline was a terrible liar. But seeing she was seconds away from crying again, I wasn’t going to push for the real answer.

Gently, I touched her cheek, forcing her to look up at me. “I’ll get you another one,” wiping her tears away. “Or we could get that one made again, if you liked it that much.” I was trying to stop the crying, not make it worse.

Fuck.What did I do?

She shook her head. “It’s fine. I don’t need one. I have the wedding band.”

Now she is turning down jewelry. Someone had broken my wife. “It’s not fine with me. I want you to have one. So you’ll have one.”

“Can we talk about something else?” she closed her eyes. “Please?”

My luck so far, the next topic I picked would cause her to freak out again like last night. “Can I check your tattoo?”

She nodded. Pulling the shirt off, she turned. It looked fine. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep last night that fed my paranoia about it this morning.