“I think the tea went cold,” I said. “I was reading.”

He kissed the crown of my head with the casual confidence of someone touching property.

—

That night, while he slept heavily beside me, I examined every document.

Sixty-three thousand dollars of credit card debt.

A second mortgage.

A loan taken against Clara’s life insurance while she was still ill.

I held a hand over my mouth to keep from waking him.

Then I began planning.

—

The following morning, I cooked pancakes.

“You’re being awfully sweet,” Michael said, studying me over his fork.

“I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should combine our accounts. It’s silly, keeping everything separate now.”

His eyes brightened so quickly that nausea rose in my throat.

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said. “Clara and I had everything shared. It just feels right.”

“Clara left me some investments,” I added in a casual tone. “The lawyer mentioned them last month. Nothing huge. Maybe forty thousand.”