Whitney was a marketing director whose hours had grown steadily longer.

I ran a small electrical contracting business.

The marriage had faltered slowly enough that by the time we signed the papers, we were both too tired to identify a single breaking point.

Dolores had been there at every stage.

She told Whitney I was unreliable because I worked with my hands.

She told me Whitney considered herself too successful for me.

Whenever we argued, somehow we ended up repeating words Dolores claimed the other had said.