My thumb found my wedding ring and turned it once around the bone of my thumb.

The metal felt icy.

By two o’clock I was at Brooke’s apartment, a one-bedroom on the third floor of a building that smelled of cinnamon and worn carpet.

She had Toby on her knee, bouncing him lightly while he gnawed on the corner of a burp cloth.

“I brought coffee,” I said, putting the cardboard tray on her counter.

“And the folder.”

Brooke tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear.