I Don’t Read Between The Lines, I Only Tell The Truth Outright Chapter 03

I Don’t Read Between The Lines, I Only Tell The Truth Outright Chapter 03

At 9 a.m. the next morning, we got to the county records office. Daphne came along too, and she said she wanted to watch me come home with her own eyes.

The clerk took our paperwork, got halfway through checking it, and looked up at my father. “You’re missing the notarized proof of relationship.”

My father turned to Adrian. “I told you to have that ready.”

Adrian went through the folder for a long time, and his face shifted. “It’s on the desk in the study.”

Eli spoke up. “We’re already here. Can’t you start it anyway?”

The clerk shook her head. “The file isn’t complete, so the system won’t take it.”

Daphne jumped in. “This is my fault. Adrian was helping me last night, so he probably forgot.”

I looked at her. “Why is it your fault?”

She blinked. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Adrian found your medication, and Adrian forgot the document. When you say it’s your fault, are you trying to take the blame for him? Or are you reminding me that he only dropped my paperwork because he was taking care of you?”

Adrian frowned right away. “Nora, she isn’t as complicated as you think.”

“Then what did she mean?”

“She feels bad. That’s all.”

“She never touched the paperwork, so what does she feel bad about?”

Adrian had had enough of the questions. “Fine. It’s my fault. Are we done?”

“We’re done.” I typed the missing document into a note on my phone. “We’ll file it this afternoon.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “You really don’t let anything slide.”

“These are my records. If I don’t push for them, who’s going to push for me?”

Nobody answered.

My father sent the driver back for the document. We waited in that lobby for 20 minutes, and then Daphne’s phone rang.

She looked at the screen, and her face went white. “Mom, I need to go home.”

My mother caught her arm. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

The more she said it was nothing, the faster the tears came.

Miles took the phone out of her hand. The screen showed a security camera screenshot from the property manager, and movers were carrying things out of her bedroom.

My mother turned to my father. “Who told anyone to touch Daphne’s room?”

He hesitated. “I told the housekeeper last night to clear out the room that was Nora’s when she was a baby.”

Daphne bit her lip. “It’s fine. That room was always Nora’s. If my things get thrown out, then they get thrown out.”

My mother panicked. “Nobody is throwing out your things.”

Daphne grabbed her bag and headed for the door, and Adrian and Eli went after her at the same time.

Miles looked at me. “She’s already overwhelmed. If her room gets torn apart out of nowhere, it could make things much worse.”

“You’re the doctor. You’re enough.” I looked at the other two. “Do the two of you treat anxiety disorders as well?”

Eli’s jaw locked. “She’s crying like that and you’re going to stand in our way?”

“I’m not in your way. I’m confirming something. Yesterday all of you promised nobody would leave, and now everybody is leaving.”

My mother stopped walking. “Nora, the paperwork can happen this afternoon. Daphne is in real distress right now.”

“So am I.”

That stopped her.

“Why does she get everyone’s attention the moment something goes wrong, while mine can wait until the afternoon?”

“Because she’s sick.”

“So as long as she’s sick, everything of mine goes to the back of the line. Is that right?”

My mother’s lips moved without any sound.

Daphne crouched down, clutching her chest and looking overwhelmed.My mother and all three brothers closed in around her, and my father took a call from the office and stepped away.

In under two minutes, they had Daphne out of the building.

My father looked back at me before he left. “Wait here for the driver to bring the document. We’ll come back as soon as this is handled.”

“How long?”

“Don’t be like this.”

“Give me an estimate.”

His face soured. “How would I know?”

The elevator doors closed on all of them.

The clerk was still holding my stack of paperwork, and she asked carefully. “Are we still doing this?”

I looked out through the glass doors. Their cars were already gone.

Every one of them had promised to bring me home, and not one of them had stayed.

I took the application form back, and the clerk thought I was giving up. “You can leave the file with us and come back another time.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I tore out the page with the Weston address on it. “Can I ask you something? I’m not putting my records under the Weston address anymore. I want them out of my old county. Is there anywhere else they can go?”