It was not surprise. Paige had been in that house; of course she’d heard it; of course she’d told her lawyer.

It was that for two years, that afternoon had been the one part of the whole thing I had never once said out loud, to anyone, including Gavin. Including myself, mostly.

And a woman in a navy suit whom I had met at nine o’clock that morning had just reached into me and taken it out and put it on the table between us, in front of a court reporter, because it was useful to her client.

“Yes,” I said.

“What did he say?”

“He said he was ashamed to be seen with me. He said I should stay in the kitchen when there were people in the house. He said that when the money came through he might file for divorce.”