Chapter 2

The next morning, Celeste left for Hawaii holding my husband’s passport, while I stayed home holding the list he still expected me to finish.

A black airport car waited at the curb.

Celeste sat nearest the door with Evan’s blue travel folder on her lap. His passport showed through the clear pocket. She checked the boarding passes while Paige loaded another suitcase.

From the doorway, she looked more like his wife than I did.

Evan turned back to me before getting into the car.

He placed one hand over my abdomen.

"Take care of our baby. I’ll call when we land."

The touch was gentle.

I stepped back before he could pull me into a hug.

His hand fell to his side.

"Natalie."

"I heard you."

For a moment, he looked confused, as if my refusal at dinner had been a temporary mood he expected to disappear overnight.

Then Celeste opened the car door wider.

"Evan, we should go."

He looked at me once more, got into the car, and sat beside her.

The car disappeared at the end of the street.

My phone buzzed before I closed the front door.

BANK ALERT: Joint credit-card balance has exceeded $12,000.

I stopped moving.

The month before, Evan had asked me to cut our grocery spending. He had postponed ordering the crib mattress because, in his words, "every dollar matters now that we’re having a baby."

I opened the account on my laptop.

Vacation house: $6,800.

Rental car: $1,260.

Flight difference: $2,400.

Suite upgrade: $900.

Marrow & Finch Jewelry: $1,460.

I stared at the last charge.

We had not bought each other Christmas gifts yet.

I sent Evan a screenshot.

His reply came hours later, after the flight landed.

[Mom will reimburse us. We used the card for points. Celeste’s divorce was expensive. Don’t make helping a friend sound ugly.]

He explained the house.

He explained the car.

He did not explain the jewelry.

I sent only one message back.

[$1,460?]

He read it.

No answer.

Ten minutes later, Paige posted a photograph from the vacation house entryway.

Everyone stood beneath a wall of white Christmas lights. Celeste was beside Evan, one hand resting lightly on his arm.

Around her wrist was a thin gold bracelet with a small compass charm.

A black Marrow & Finch gift box sat open on the table beside her drink.

I looked from the photograph to the credit-card statement.

$1,460.

Evan had made me remove berries and sparkling water from our grocery order because they were "extras."

Then he used our joint card to put gold around Celeste’s wrist.

I saved the photograph.

I saved the statement.

Then I stopped looking only at December.

I downloaded two years of credit-card records, bank statements, and savings activity. I sent copies to a private cloud folder and to Tessa.

Seven transfers to Paige appeared in our bank history.

Security deposit.

Car repair.

Attorney retainer.

Emergency.

Together: $18,760.

I did not know about any of them.

The oldest transfer was the largest.

March 14 — $9,000.

My fingers went still on the keyboard.

I knew that date without checking a calendar.

That morning, Dr. Ortiz had told us our first embryo transfer had failed.

I had cried in the clinic parking lot with my face against Evan’s coat. He had held me until I could breathe again.

That evening, he stood in our kitchen with red eyes and told me he needed to drive for a while.

"I’m grieving too," he had whispered. "I just need to be alone."

At 6:42 p.m., while I was home bleeding from the medication and trying not to look at the empty space where a pregnancy test should have been, Evan sent Paige $9,000 from our savings.

I sat there until the screen dimmed.

Then I opened it again.

I copied every transfer.

I put the black drive containing the records into the box with my passport and medical papers.

At Tessa’s house that afternoon, I handed her the box.

She did not ask me whether I was overreacting.

She only took it from me and said, "Do you want Rachel’s number?"

Rachel was the family-law attorney who had handled Tessa’s sister’s divorce.

I looked down at my phone.

A new picture from Hawaii had appeared.

Evan and Celeste were raising champagne glasses toward the camera.

I turned the phone facedown.

"Yes," I said. "Send it to me."