He dropped the box in the closet just to get it out of sight, and wandered back to the table.
Obviously, he couldn’t say anything to her in front of the girls. But it was confounding not knowing why she had chosen to keep the thing.
There was no way she planned to wear it for him, given how disgusted he was about it.
So, if she planned to keep it, that could only mean she planned to wear it for someone else.
Fire threatened to consume his chest and he had to fight to take deep breaths and plaster a calm look on his face.
“Everything okay, Dad?” Minerva asked, her brow furrowed with worry.
“Sure thing,” he lied, hoping she believed him. “Can I help set the table?”