“Where are you going this late?” I asked.

“The office,” he said.

“I’ve got paperwork to finish before morning.”

Zane reached over, slammed the lock of his briefcase shut with one sharp bang and turned his back to me in the dark bedroom.

The house stayed quiet after the lock snapped closed.

I lay on my side at the very edge of the mattress, my back to the dark wall, listening to Zane’s slow, heavy breathing on the other side of the bed.

By six in the morning his side of the bed was already empty.