Chapter 3

That evening Marvin cooked himself, and covered the table with dishes I loved.

Sweet-and-sour ribs, steamed sea bass, a fresh salad.

"I've been neglecting you lately." He set a rib in my bowl.

"Eat more. Look how thin you've gotten."

I bit into the rib. The meat was stewed until it fell apart.

For a moment, everything felt normal again.

Halfway through the meal his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen. "It's my mom. I'll take it outside."

He stepped onto the balcony. The door didn't shut all the way.

His mother's voice carried through, every word of it.

"Marvin, is that overseas art program for Anita all sorted out?"

"That's fifty thousand dollars. Don't let her run into any trouble out there on her own."

Fifty thousand.

My hand froze over my chopsticks.

Two weeks ago, Marvin had told me the company was tight on cash, that the down payment on the house would have to wait.

"Let's rent for another year, just until I get back on my feet."

He'd looked so pained saying it.

I believed him.

I deleted the listings I'd been saving and renewed the lease for another year.

Marvin came back in from the balcony, his face perfectly calm.

He pulled a jewelry box from his pocket and opened it. Inside was a jade necklace.

"The one you were looking at last time. Do you like it? I've been neglecting you lately. I'm sorry."

I touched the jade. Smooth, cool, warm to hold.

"I love it," I said.

He fastened it for me, his fingers pausing at the back of my neck.

"There'll be better things from now on."

I nodded and said nothing.

He went to shower. Water started running behind the bathroom door.

I walked into the study.

He'd left in a hurry. The drawer wasn't locked.

I pulled open the top one.

Inside lay a payment receipt. The overseas art program, fifty thousand dollars, paid by Marvin Henson.

Beneath it was a bank slip. Transferred out of our joint account.

That account. The one I'd paid into with every paycheck for three years.

I thought that money was sitting there quietly, saving up, waiting to become our house.

I took a photo, put the receipt back exactly where it was, and slid the drawer shut.

Just as I closed it, his tablet lit up on the desk.

A message from Anita Fox.

"Marvin, I've got the honeymoon planned out. Just follow the route I mapped."

I opened the attachment. A travel plan, worked out in exhausting detail.

Private spots the whole way, staying in guesthouses, no hotels.

Every bit of it a route I'd hate.

I remembered the first year we were together, when Marvin put together a travel guide with his own hands.

He'd spent a week looking up routes and hotels, wrote out a plan by hand, and tucked it under my pillow.

On the last page he'd drawn a little figure at the beach, and beside it written "Sally and Marvin's honeymoon."

But that kind of care was gone, and it wasn't coming back.

Marvin came out of the bathroom drying his hair, and his face shifted when he saw me looking at the tablet.

"Anita travels a lot. I just had her put together something for reference, that's all."

He said it lightly, took the tablet from me and closed it.

"She did a good job. Saves the trouble," I said.

He relaxed and went to the kitchen for water.

I took out my phone and opened the county clerk's appointment app.

The page still read: "Appointment confirmed. Next Wednesday, 10 a.m."

I pressed cancel.