“I want you to give me a divorce and sign over your rights to the house,” Marcus said.

There it was.

Not a question about the babies.

Not an apology.

The house.

I had wondered how long it would take him to mention it.

Apparently, the answer was less time than it took to greet three daughters.

I looked at his suitcase, the woman’s hand, and the envelope waiting several yards behind him.