The receipt had been sitting there since Tuesday, and I still needed to check whether the electric bill had cleared.

“Gas costs money,” I said.

“I know what gas costs, Emma.”

He gave me a small smile, the kind he used when he wanted a conversation to end without either of us having to admit it had gone badly.

I folded the receipt in half and slipped it into the drawer beside the kitchen towels.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet.

We can walk, get something warm to drink, and come home before dinner.”