He reached across the little kitchen table and touched the back of my right hand for two whole seconds.

“I’m going to make sure this house is completely safe and financially ready before your seventh month starts,” he said.

I picked up my fork and ate a small bite of pancake.

It was warm and sweet, cooked exactly the way he used to make them when we first lived in Milwaukee.

“The woman at the bank told me my main debit card had been canceled,” I said quietly.

“That was only a temporary security flag because the auditor put a routine hold on our joint file,” he said, wiping his mouth with a folded paper napkin.