His voice was low, but each word struck hard against the quiet walls of the living room.

“That card is for groceries and my doctor’s appointments,” I said.

“From now on I’ll take care of the grocery orders from the office,” Patrick said.

He slid the blue plastic card into his own coat pocket and zipped the flap closed.

“You walked into this marriage with a canvas duffel bag and sixty-four dollars,” he said.

He straightened both gold cufflinks, lining their square edges up with his cuffs.

“Don’t pretend you built any of this,” he said.