I Finally Took My Ex-Husband’s “Three-Thousand-Dollar” Card to the Bank—Then the Manager Brought Out an Envelope with My Name
“Call me Sunday.”
She nodded.
“I can do Sunday.”
That evening, David called from Omaha with a television murmuring behind him.
“Let me think about what I can do,” he said after asking about the payments.
“You can call Sunday.”
“All right.”
“And don’t turn Sunday into a financial inspection.
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