“You can’t be this cold,” he said, his voice tightening as he looked at the floor.

“We spent six years together in that house.”

“And for six months you moved forty-two thousand dollars out of our joint account to pay another woman’s debt,” I said.

The elevator doors opened behind him with a soft electronic chime, showing an empty car waiting on the third floor.

Mark didn’t step inside, and the rubber edges bumped gently against his coat sleeve before the doors slid shut again.

“I have nowhere to stay tonight, Claire,” he said.