Chapter 5
I left Dana’s office feeling like I was walking through someone else’s life.
Borrow against our home?
Ryan wouldn’t.
That was my first thought.
Then I almost laughed.
Two days earlier, I would have said Ryan wouldn’t secretly apply for credit in my name.
He wouldn’t drain our savings.
He wouldn’t pretend to go to work.
He wouldn’t try to transfer my inheritance.
Apparently, I had no idea what Ryan would do.
I drove straight to the county records office website from my car.
The deed showed both our names.
That was good.
Then I searched property records.
One mortgage.
No second mortgage.
No lien I recognized.
I exhaled.
Maybe there was finally no new disaster.
Then Dana called.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes. Both names. No second mortgage.”
“Good.”
I leaned back against my seat.
“Is that it?”
“For the house, probably. But I want you to freeze your credit.”
“I already changed passwords.”
“That isn’t enough.”
She explained how to place freezes with the credit bureaus.
I did it before leaving the parking lot.
When I got home, Ryan wasn’t there.
His truck was gone.
My first reaction was irritation.
Then I remembered he had an interview.
Or supposedly had an interview.
The fact that I couldn’t trust even that simple statement made me sick.
I picked up Noah from my neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez, who had watched him for my appointment.
She handed him to me and smiled.
“He was an angel.”
“Are you sure you had the right baby?”
She laughed.
Then her expression softened.
“You okay, honey?”
I forced a smile.
“Tired.”
She studied me.
Mrs. Alvarez was sixty-eight and impossible to fool.
“You know, when my husband was alive, sometimes I wanted to hit him with a frying pan.”
I blinked.
She smiled.
“Not actually. Most days.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Marriage is strange,” she continued. “People think love means never becoming angry enough to leave. Sometimes love is finding out whether the other person gives you a reason to stay.”
I looked at her.
“Did yours?”
“Eventually.”
She touched my arm.
“But I made him work for it.”
I carried Noah home.
At 1:15, Ryan returned.
He walked in wearing a navy suit I hadn’t seen in months.
“How did it go?”
He seemed surprised I asked.
“Good.”
“What company?”
“Barton Logistics.”
“What position?”
“Operations manager.”
“What salary?”
His mouth tightened.
“Seventy-two.”
I waited.
He sighed.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“That it’s less than I used to make.”
“It’s seventy-two thousand more than you make now.”
He almost smiled.
“Mark said the same thing.”
“You talked to Mark?”
“He called.”
“And?”
Ryan loosened his tie.
“I apologized.”
That surprised me.
“For screaming at him?”
“For putting him in the middle.”
I nodded.
“What did he say?”
“That I’m an idiot.”
“Mark is having a strong week.”
Ryan actually laughed.
The sound felt strange in our house.
Normal.
Familiar.
Dangerous.
Because normal could make you forget.
I put Noah in his high chair.
“Did they offer you the job?”
“No. Second interview tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Ryan took a breath.
“I canceled the meeting about the bar.”
I looked at him.
“The investor meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Was it real?”
He looked hurt.
Then seemed to realize he had no right to be offended.
“Yes. It was real.”
“What was the plan?”
He sat down.
“There’s a building near Addison. It used to be a restaurant. The owner wants a long-term tenant.”
“And you thought you could rent it?”
“With investors.”
“Using my money.”
He winced.
“Yes.”
“At least you said it.”
“I know.”
I wiped Noah’s tray.
Ryan watched me.
“I’m sorry about the transfer.”
“You keep saying sorry like the problem was clicking the wrong button.”
He nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
I looked at him.
That response surprised me too.
He continued.
“The problem was that I convinced myself I had a right to make the decision because I was going to make the money back.”
I crossed my arms.
“That is slightly closer.”
“I was desperate.”
“Desperate doesn’t make someone entitled to steal.”
His face tightened at the word.
“Steal.”
“Yes.”
“We’re married.”
“My grandmother left that money to me.”
“For the family.”
“She left it to me.”
He looked down.
I realized we still weren’t as far apart as I had hoped.
That afternoon, Ryan picked up Lily without being asked.
He made dinner again.
He gave both kids baths.
When Noah screamed through half of his bottle, Ryan walked around the kitchen bouncing him.
I sat at the table answering work emails.
For the first time in months, I finished an email without someone crying in my arms.
And I hated how good it felt.
Because this was what I had wanted all along.
Not gifts.
Not dates.
Not apologies.
A partner.
At 8:30, both kids were asleep.
Ryan came downstairs.
“I want to show you something.”
He placed his laptop on the table.
A spreadsheet.
At the top:
DEBT REPAYMENT PLAN.
I almost smiled.
Not because I was impressed.
Because Ryan had always hated spreadsheets.
“I listed everything.”
He showed me.
Mortgage now current.
Credit card balance.
Personal loan.
Line of credit.
Estimated monthly household expenses.
He had even listed beer.
Zero dollars.
“I’m done drinking for a while.”
I looked at him.
“You don’t have to perform for me.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why now?”
“Because yesterday I was holding Noah and he wouldn’t stop crying.”
He paused.
“I got frustrated.”
My body stiffened.
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t hurt him.”
“Ryan.”
“I put him safely in the crib and walked out for two minutes.”
I watched him carefully.
“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“I know.”
He looked ashamed.
“But I realized I had no idea what your days were like.”
“My days?”
“I thought because you’re better at this than me, it was easier for you.”
I stared at him.
“That might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I know.”
“And the competition is brutal.”
A tiny smile appeared.
Then vanished.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He nodded.
“I kept thinking I was doing the important part. Making money.”
“You weren’t making money.”
“I know.”
He rubbed his face.
“That’s what makes it worse.”
He looked at me.
“I lost the thing I thought made me useful. And instead of figuring out another way to be useful, I pretended nothing changed.”
There it was.
A sentence with no excuse attached.
For the first time, I heard insight instead of defense.
I wanted to reward it.
Then I remembered Dana’s advice.
Do not mistake temporary cooperation for permanent change.
“I appreciate you saying that.”
Ryan’s eyes softened.
“But?”
“But two good days don’t rebuild four months.”
His face fell.
“I know.”
The next morning, he went to his second interview.
I went to work.
At 11:17, my phone rang.
It was an unknown Dallas number.
Normally, I ignored unknown calls.
Something made me answer.
“Hello?”
“Is this Emily Carter?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Sandra Mills. I’m calling from Westlake Financial Recovery regarding an account connected to Ryan Carter.”
I closed my office door.
“What account?”
“A business equipment financing application.”
I sat down.
“I’m sorry?”
“We have been attempting to verify information.”
My pulse increased.
“What information?”
“There is an application listing you as a guarantor.”
I stopped breathing.
“I never guaranteed anything.”
Silence.
Then Sandra’s tone changed.
“Mrs. Carter, may I ask if you signed documents on August twenty-third?”
“No.”
“Did you electronically authorize a guarantee for Carter Hospitality Group LLC?”
“No.”
I could hear typing.
“Are you familiar with Carter Hospitality Group?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“I think we need to refer this to our fraud department.”
My hands turned cold.
“How much is the financing?”
“The application was for eighty thousand dollars.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“Eighty thousand?”
“Yes.”
“Was it approved?”
“No. It is still pending verification.”
I closed my eyes.
Thank God.
“Please do not approve it.”
“We won’t proceed while fraud is under review.”
After the call, I sat there for several minutes.
Then I called Dana.
She listened quietly.
When I finished, her answer was immediate.
“Do not confront him alone.”
My heart pounded.
“Why?”
“Because this is escalating beyond marital dishonesty into possible financial fraud.”
“He’s never been violent with me.”
“I’m not saying he will be.”
Her voice stayed calm.
“I’m saying you just learned your husband may have attempted to make you responsible for eighty thousand dollars without your knowledge. You don’t know how he’ll react when he realizes you know.”
I looked at the framed photo on my desk.
Ryan and me on our wedding day.
Eight years earlier.
He was laughing.
I was looking up at him.
I remembered exactly what he whispered before the photographer took it.
I choose you. Every day.
I stared at that younger version of him.
Then I called Mrs. Alvarez.
“Can Lily and Noah stay with you tonight?”
Her answer came without hesitation.
“Yes.”
At 4:30, Ryan texted me.
SECOND INTERVIEW WENT GREAT. THEY WANT REFERENCES.
A minute later:
I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY GET THIS.
I stared at the message.
Then I typed:
Good. We need to talk when I get home.
He replied:
ABOUT WHAT?
I didn’t answer.
When I pulled into our driveway at six, Ryan was sitting on the front steps.
Waiting.
He stood the second I got out.
“Where are the kids?”
“With Mrs. Alvarez.”
His expression changed.
“Why?”
I walked toward him.
“Who is Carter Hospitality Group LLC?”
Every bit of color disappeared from his face.
And I knew.
May you like
Before he said a word.
I knew the application was real.
