“Take all of it,” Seth begged, his voice shaking.

“Take every vendor check and keep it to make up for what I put you through these last four weeks.”

“I saw your lone signature on the back of the florist check on Monday,” I said.

“You were sending vendor refunds to your private account until the bank froze it.”

“I was desperate, Natalie,” Seth sobbed, wiping his face with his palm as someone walked past us on the gravel path.

“We can go to couples counseling.”