“Yeah.” He set the spatula aside and turned fully toward me, relaxed, patient, already wearing the expression of a man preparing to explain something obvious to someone slightly slower than himself. “We had somebody come out, take a look at the layout. It just made a lot more sense to open things up. The yards flow better this way. More usable space. The kids already love it.”
I looked at the volleyball net, then back at him. “That’s my property.”
He gave a little helpless laugh, the kind people use when they want your reaction to seem unreasonable before you’ve even had it. “Ryan, come on. Property lines out here are pretty flexible concepts. It’s all just land.”
And there it was.
That was the moment the anger stopped feeling hot and started feeling cold. Because I understood, with complete clarity, that this wasn’t a misunderstanding or some reckless impulse he’d regret once confronted. This was a worldview. He actually believed that what he preferred mattered more than what was mine. He believed the fact of his wanting could rearrange reality.
