He opened his mouth, and then closed it, because somewhere underneath the anger he was beginning to remember.

During the settlement, he had been so busy on the phone with Camila, so busy arranging his bright new future, that he had signed a thick stack of custody attachments without reading one line of any of them.

“Where are you even going to live?” he demanded.

“Madrid.”

“And where did you get the money for all of this?”

That question, more than anything he said all morning, was the whole of our marriage in a single sentence.

Chapter 8 — What He Never Bothered to Ask