I reached for my cell phone on the cushion next to me.

Rory’s number was at the top of my recent calls.

If I called him now, he’d raise his voice.

He’d tell me I was snooping in Tasha’s private business.

He’d say the calendar entries were business write-offs or presents from Tasha’s mother in Iowa.

He’d twist it all around until I was the one apologizing for asking.

I set the phone back down on the cushion without unlocking it.

I stared at the crumpled receipt under the bright kitchen light, wondering whether I ought to confront him.