And for the first time, her emotional arguments weren’t buying him dinner.
He rubbed his forehead.
“Just transfer some money back.”
Patricia hesitated.
“Sweetheart, I’ve already arranged several payments.”
He stared.
“What payments?”
She looked at me.
Then back at him.
“Some things I’d been putting off.”
His voice rose.
“What things?”
“A few personal expenses.”
“How much?”
She didn’t answer.
I silently closed my spreadsheet.
The two people who had announced that I was no longer financially relevant were about to discover what happened when they had to account for their own spending.
I left the office.
Behind me, Derek and Patricia continued arguing.
I went downstairs, made tea, and sat near the window.
The house was quiet except for their raised voices.
For several minutes, I listened to fragments drifting from upstairs.
“That’s not what we agreed!”
“You promised you’d take care of me!”
“With my whole salary?”