“And your husband?” he asked.

“He signed the quitclaim this morning.

No alimony.

I didn’t ask for anything more.”

Enzo nodded once and cut me a piece of sfogliatella.

The pastry was still warm, and I ate it on my feet right there at the counter.

He wrapped the second copy of the lease in wax paper and tucked it into my briefcase.

The brass clasp clicked.