“Fine by me.”

Relief flooded his face; he had braced for a fight.

Instead, that same afternoon, I hired a moving crew.

I took every single thing that was mine — the furniture I had chosen, my art, my books, the antique silver from my grandmother, the light fixtures, the plants, my clothes, down to the espresso machine.

When Spencer walked in that evening, he walked into an echoing, hollow shell.

“What happened here?” he demanded.