Chapter 4

Luke called at 6:14 the next morning, before Ellie’s star projector had switched itself off.

“The mortgage company charged us a late fee,” he said. “Fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix. The account didn’t have enough money because my paycheck no longer goes into it.”

“You knew the payment was due.”

“I left the existing balance untouched. I also left you a list of every bill and its due date.”

“You left three pages of numbers.”

“Yes. Those numbers are the house you thought ran by itself.”

He went silent.

Through the wall, I heard Ellie moving around her new room. I lowered my voice.

“Dana emailed you. We can discuss reasonable shared obligations after we’ve reviewed our incomes and the house. I’m not refusing to contribute. I’m refusing to fund an arrangement no one discussed with me.”

“You’re using the mortgage to punish me.”

“No. I’m paying rent so our daughter has a bedroom.”

I heard paper rustling.

“The mortgage is twenty-one hundred and forty-eight dollars?”

“It has been for eleven months.”

“And the insurance renewal is due next week?”

“Yes.”

“I thought that came out of escrow.”

“You thought wrong.”

More paper moved.

“What’s this four-sixty-five every month?”

“Ellie’s after-school program.”

“You pay that?”

“Every month.”

“What about the furnace repair last December?”

“My emergency fund.”

The silence that followed was different.

For years, Luke’s renovation income had arrived in uneven waves. Good months paid for new tools, truck repairs, and materials for his next project. Bad months were absorbed by my steady paycheck.

Whenever there was a gap, I filled it so quietly that eventually he stopped seeing the gap at all.

“How much did you pay toward the house last year?” he asked.

“The statements are in the folder.”

“Just tell me.”

“No. Read them.”

He muttered something as he turned another page.

Mortgage payments. Homeowners insurance. Internet. After-school care. The furnace repair. Groceries that had climbed after two more people moved in.

Then he said, “How am I supposed to cover all of this at once?”

“That’s the question I’ve been answering alone for years.”

“I have business expenses.”

“And I have rent now. Ellie needs furniture. I paid a deposit and Dana’s retainer. We’ll work out what I reasonably owe through the attorneys, but I’m not paying all the expenses for two households.”

A woman’s voice came through the phone.

“What does she mean, two households?”

Kayla.

Luke must have put me on speaker.

“I told you,” he said to her. “Megan moved her paycheck.”

“I thought you meant she took some money.”

“I didn’t take anything,” I said. “The money already in the account is still there.”

Kayla sounded offended by the distinction. “Well, I don’t have twenty-one hundred dollars.”

“I didn’t ask you for all of it,” Luke said. “But you and Ben could cover groceries and part of the utilities.”

“If I could afford rent, I wouldn’t be living here.”

“Food and electricity aren’t free just because it’s my house.”

Another silence.

Then Kayla said, “What about Ellie’s college account?”

My hand closed around the phone.

Luke didn’t answer.

“You could borrow from it,” Kayla continued. “Just until Megan comes home. College is years away.”

“Do not touch Ellie’s college money,” I said.

“I said borrow it. Not steal it.”

“Taking from a child because the adults don’t want to change their lives is not borrowing.”

“No one said we were doing it,” Luke cut in.

But he still hadn’t said no.

Dana had already warned both of us in writing not to move, hide, or liquidate long-term savings while we sorted out the separation.

“How much is in the account?” Luke asked.

The question was quiet. Practical.

That made it worse.

“Enough that you should never have asked.”

“I’m trying to understand our options.”

“Ellie is not an option.”

From her bedroom came the soft click of a door opening.

“Mom?”

I ended the call before she could hear her father calculating the price of her future.

She appeared in the hallway with her stuffed moon tucked beneath one arm.

“Was that Dad?”

“Yes.”

“Is he mad?”

“He’s dealing with some bills.”

Her eyes dropped. “Because we left?”

“Because adults have to pay for the choices they make. None of this is your job to fix.”

She nodded, though I wasn’t sure she believed me yet.

Ten minutes later, Luke sent one final message.

I want Ellie overnight this weekend. She needs to know I’m still her father.

I stared at the words, then at the open door of the room no one could take from her.

Luke wanted our daughter back in his house.

He still hadn’t told me where she was supposed to sleep.