“I can commit to the weekend shifts through August,” I said.

“That’s perfect,” Daniel said.

“Because once we build up some breathing room, I want to plan a trip.”

He flipped to the second page in his binder.

It showed printed rates for a boutique luxury hotel in New Mexico.

“We’re finally turning a corner, Claire, and Santa Fe will be our fresh start,” he said.

He spoke with smooth, persuasive warmth, tracing the edge of the paper with his thumb.

He leaned closer and pointed to a photograph of a patio restaurant draped in string lights.