“We shouldn’t be discussing this out here on the front porch.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because your daughters will be coming home from school any minute now, and they shouldn’t have to see us fighting like this,” he reasoned.

“We aren’t fighting, Austin,” I said coldly.

“No,” he agreed softly, picking up his car keys from the wooden railing.

“Not yet, anyway.”

“Where are you going?” I asked as he turned toward the steps.

“I’m heading straight down to the police station,” he announced.