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Aurora bent forward and coughed, holding on to her chest, her face tight with pain.
“Are you all right?” Panic surged inside Christine. She’d let her anger show and it had upset her ill mother. “Can I get you water? A pain pill?” She felt sick. She’d picked a fight with a fragile woman, not the hard-as-nails, blunt mother she’d grown up with. Shame on her.
“Stop that. My stitches burn when I cough, that’s all.”
“I didn’t mean to agitate you. I’m here to help and—”
“I said stop it, dammit. I’m not dying. I’m fine. Better than ever.” Aurora pushed up from her chair and stomped toward the door. Reaching it, she hesitated, then turned around. “Hell, that’s not how I meant that to go.”
She lifted a hand as if to reach out to Christine, then dropped it. “So…just…good night then,” she said, disappearing without waiting for Christine’s response.
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