Chương 7
“Tomorrow.”
He nodded.
As he turned away, his phone buzzed.
He glanced down.
His face tightened.
“What?”
He locked the screen too quickly.
“Nothing.”
“Ryan.”
He shoved the phone into his pocket.
“It’s just a recruiter.”
“Then why do you look like you owe them money?”
He didn’t answer.
A second buzz came almost immediately.
He closed his eyes.
Then he took the phone back out.
The message preview was still visible.
FINAL NOTICE appeared at the top.
Under it was the name of a credit-card company.
I looked at him.
“How bad is it?”
Ryan sat down on the unopened shelving box.
For several seconds he stared at the floor.
Then he said, “Kelsey thinks we owe twelve thousand.”
The air in the garage seemed to change.
“How much do you actually owe?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Closer to forty-three.”
I stared at him long enough that the refrigerator-sized silence of the garage seemed to grow around us.
“Forty-three thousand dollars?”
Ryan nodded.
“In credit cards?”
“Mostly.”
“What does mostly mean?”
He looked toward the open garage door.
“Two personal loans.”
I felt my grip tighten around the drill.
“How much are those?”
“The forty-three includes them.”
“That is not what I asked.”
He exhaled.
“About eleven.”
I set the drill on the workbench before I dropped it.
“So thirty-two thousand on cards.”
“Roughly.”
“How do you accidentally owe thirty-two thousand dollars on cards?”
“I didn’t say accidentally.”
“No, you just said Kelsey thinks it’s twelve.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“Does she know about the loans?”
“No.”
“Does she know you were using credit to cover bills before you got laid off?”
He did not answer.
“Ryan.”
“No.”
I turned away from him.
The garage door opener hummed faintly overhead because I had left the light on too long.
There were still pieces of packing paper under the wall shelves from the previous owners.
I bent down and picked one up just to have something to do with my hands.
Behind me, Ryan said, “I was going to fix it.”
I laughed once without turning.
“That sentence should be carved on the family crest.”
“That’s helpful.”
“You’re right.”
I threw the paper into a trash bag.
“It’s not.”
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“I had a good quarter last year.”
“Sales?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were salaried.”
“Base plus commission.”
“And then?”
“Then I figured I could keep it going.”
“With the spending?”
“With everything.”
I turned back toward him.
“What did you buy?”
His face went defensive immediately.
“It wasn’t one thing.”
“Ryan.”
“Trips.”
“What trips?”
“Disney was mostly on the card.”
I blinked.
“You told everyone you used points.”
“I used points for the flights.”
“And the hotel?”
“Card.”
“The park tickets?”
“Card.”
“Food?”
He gave me a look.
“What do you think?”
I sat on the edge of the workbench.
“The lake house in June?”
“Split with friends.”
“With money you had?”
“No.”
“The new SUV?”
“Lease.”
“That is not better.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
He rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“Kelsey’s business slowed down.”
“What business?”
“Her staging work.”
I frowned.
“She told Mom she was booked through fall.”
“She was supposed to be.”
“What happened?”
“Two builders cut budgets and one stopped using independent stagers.”
“So she lost income too.”
“Yeah.”
“And neither of you told the other how bad it was.”
Ryan looked at the floor.
“She knew we were stretched.”
“Twelve thousand stretched.”
He flinched.
I regretted the phrasing but kept going.
“Why did she think twelve?”
“Because that’s what was on the card she knows about.”
“The card she knows about.”
“I opened others.”
“In your name?”
He hesitated.
My stomach tightened.
“Ryan.”
“One joint.”
I stood.
“With her name?”
“It was a preapproval.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It was already linked to our household.”
“Did she apply for it?”
“No.”
“Did she sign anything?”
“It was online.”
“That still isn’t an answer.”
His face had gone pale again.
I felt a cold pressure gather behind my ribs.
“Did you open a credit card using Kelsey’s information without telling her?”
“I had her Social because we file taxes together.”
I stepped back from him.
“Jesus Christ.”
“It’s not like I stole her identity.”
“That is exactly what it sounds like.”
“No, because we’re married.”
“Marriage is not blanket authorization.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Do you?”
He stood too.
“I was trying to keep us afloat.”
“You were hiding debt.”
“I was paying groceries.”
“You were also paying for Disney.”
“That was before.”
“You were hiding debt before the layoff.”
He opened his mouth and shut it again.
I pointed toward the carriage house.
“You have to tell her.”
“Tonight.”
His eyes flashed.
“You don’t get to set the time.”
“You want to stay on my property.”
“This has nothing to do with your property.”
“It has everything to do with why you need it.”
He turned away and kicked lightly at the edge of the shelving box.
Not hard enough to damage it.
Just hard enough to show he wanted to.
“If I tell her tonight, she might leave.”
“Yes.”
“She might take the kids.”
“Yes.”
“You’re very calm about that.”
“I’m not calm.”
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
“I’m trying very hard not to scream at you.”
He looked at me then.
I could see the fear in his face.
Not fear of debt collectors.
Not fear of me.
Fear of Kelsey.
Or more precisely, fear of losing whatever version of himself he still thought existed in her eyes.
“She already thinks I’m a screwup,” he said.
“No, she thinks you lost your job.”
“She thinks I lied about my job.”
“You did.”
“She thinks I let us give up the apartment.”
“You did.”
“Thank you, Jenna.”
“Do you want comfort or accuracy?”
“For once, maybe both.”
That stopped me.
I sat back down.
May you like
Ryan remained standing.
After a moment, I said, “I don’t think you’re irredeemable.”
