“Could you not say that so loudly?”
I stepped over the threshold, my gaze sweeping the room. Streamers hung from the ceiling; people laughed, someone poured wine, but no one looked my way for long.
Not one black dress. Not one lowered voice. Just music loud enough to pretend grief was a neighbor you could ignore. My daughter’s name hadn’t been spoken once in this house — I was sure of that.
Rosie drew me into the hallway.
“Don’t make this about you, Cassie,” she said.
I was sure of that.
