“I’ll come by for some things this afternoon.”
“Good.
We need to talk like adults.”
“We will.”
He hesitated.
Something in my tone had changed.
“Are you at Rachel’s?”
“Yes.”
“What have you told her?”
I almost laughed.
Not Are you okay?
Not I’m sorry.
What have you told her?
“Enough.”
“Emma, don’t start spreading some twisted version of what happened.”
I looked at the folder on my laptop.
“I don’t need to twist anything.”
Then I ended the call.
Rachel came with me to the apartment that afternoon.
Ryan was waiting in the living room.
He had changed clothes and cleaned the kitchen.
He looked rested, composed, and irritated, as if I had created a scheduling problem.
My wedding ring was on the counter.
He must have brought it home from the bar.
He saw me notice it.
“Can we stop with the theatrics now?” he asked.
I walked past the ring.
Rachel stayed near the doorway.
Ryan’s eyes flicked toward her.
“This is between me and my wife.”
“She’s here because I asked her to be.”
He laughed once.
“Of course.
You need an audience.”
I opened the bedroom closet and began removing the rest of my clothes.
Ryan followed me.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked.
“You punish me for a few days and then come back?”
“No.”
“You’re seriously ending a marriage over something I said to the guys?”
I folded a sweater and placed it in my suitcase.
“I’m ending a marriage over what you think of me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“And the money.”
Silence.
I looked up.
For the first time since the bar, Ryan’s face lost its practiced superiority.
“What money?”
“The transfers from our joint savings.”
His eyes narrowed.
I watched him calculate.
“Were you going through my accounts?”
“Our account.”
“It’s mostly my money, Emma.”
There it was.
Not denial.
