Ava slipped in behind him, her eyes fixed on her phone screen while her right sneaker lace wrapped around her index finger.

Ava stopped cold three feet past the threshold.

Her eyes landed on the small gray suitcase standing upright against the bottom stair rail.

“Are you actually leaving?” Ava asked, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Or is this another performance?”

I didn’t answer her.

I reached down to the wooden kitchen table, picked up the heavy white envelope beside my green tea mug, and slid it across to the opposite edge.

The envelope slid smoothly across the polished oak and came to a stop against Daniel’s leather belt buckle.