Chapter 2

Russell came through the back door at six with tomato soup, warm bread, and two cups of tea from Maple & Rye.

"You didn't eat lunch," he said.

I had not told him that.

Of course he knew. For thirteen years, Russell had noticed when I skipped meals, forgot gloves, or woke before dawn and pretended I was not worried.

He set the food on the counter and opened his arms.

I went into them.

"Thank you for today," I said against his shirt.

"You never have to thank me for standing beside you."

His hand moved slowly over my back. The knot beneath my ribs loosened, and shame followed it. I had spent the drive home staring at one plain line: approved on Russell's office computer.

Russell had defended me before anyone else did. He had offered his own money without asking what it would cost him.

I pulled away. "Did the tent company get paid?"

"An hour ago." He pushed the soup toward me. "The wedding is safe. Dana has time to sort out the rest."

I sat at the kitchen island. He remembered the cracked pepper I liked and had packed it beside the bread.

This was the man I knew.

I took the folded report from my coat.

"Then help me understand this."

Russell looked at the stamp.

His face did not change, but his hand stopped halfway to his tea.

"The payment came from your office computer," I said.

"I logged in for you Friday morning."

He folded the report once, hiding the stamp beneath his palm.

"Why?"

"You called me from the doctor's office parking lot. You were late and upset. You asked me to approve the linen payment."

I set down my spoon.

"I asked you to approve the linen payment."

"The linen payment was on your screen."

"L.M. wasn't on my screen."

Russell came around the island and crouched beside my stool. He took both my hands, the same way he had in Dana's office.

"Mal, listen to me. You were rushing. You put two payments together and didn't notice. I approved what you sent. That makes this my mistake too."

For a moment, relief tried to reach me. A mistake had an ending. A marriage could survive a mistake.

Then I remembered Thursday night.

"I checked the total before I closed my laptop. Twelve hundred dollars."

His thumbs stopped moving over my knuckles.

"You've had a brutal week," he said. "You don't need to turn one wrong click into something ugly between us."

"I'm asking what happened."

"And I'm telling you."

He stood and carried his tea to the sink though he had not taken a sip.

"Dana needs a simple answer tomorrow," he said. "Tell her you may have attached the wrong company. I'll say I approved it without checking. My money covers the loss, nobody calls the police, and we go home together."

"But that isn't what happened."

"It is the answer that keeps you employed."

The soup cooled between us.

An hour earlier, I had wanted to apologize for doubting him. Now he was asking me to doubt myself instead.

I folded the report and put it back in my coat.

Russell watched the pocket. "Dana owns that document."

"Then she can ask me for it."

"Don't make me fight you while I'm trying to save you."

The sentence landed quietly.

I carried my phone charger and one pillow into the guest room.

Russell stood in the doorway, toothbrush in his hand. "You're sleeping in here over a payment printout?"

"I'm sleeping in here because you changed your story."

"I came home with dinner. I replaced the money. I stood up for you in front of the whole company. What else do you want from me?"

"The truth."

I closed the door before he could answer.

At seven-fifteen the next morning, I drove to Northline to collect the work binders from my desk.

My four-digit code made the employee keypad flash red.

ACCESS DENIED.

Through the glass, the office lights were on.

Lacey sat behind my desk, drinking from the anniversary mug Russell had given me last year.