Mark hovered in the doorway with his phone in his hand.

Every few minutes he left the room to take a call.

Once, I heard him say, “Not tonight.

I told you, I can handle it.” When he returned, his smile seemed fixed in place.

After dinner, he asked Emma to fetch extra napkins from the kitchen.

The moment she left, he sat across from me.

“You’ve been avoiding my question,” he said.

“I’ve asked you for records.”