I held his fingers firmly and refused to let go.

“The legal courier found me on the cruise ship in Cozumel, Greg,” I said.

He stared down at our joined hands, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched along his cheekbone.

“I gave you the house deed, Claire.

The transfer was clean.

You were supposed to stay on the ship and let the attorneys handle the final paperwork.”

“You took four unrecorded personal days in July,” I said, looking straight into his eyes.

“You let Arthur Vance turn you into a disgraced outcast at church so I wouldn’t have to sell our home to pay his commercial debt.”