Daniel came to the studio the next morning.
I heard him in the hall before I saw him. His shoes stopped outside the recording room. I kept my eyes on the transcript in front of me.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
"No."
He came in anyway, then closed the door behind him.
I stood up. "I said no."
"I'm not going to corner you."
"Then open the door."
He left it closed. His face looked drawn, the way it did when he'd slept badly. He had not shaved. I remembered brushing my thumb over that roughness, leaning into him at the kitchen sink while coffee brewed.
I folded my arms.
"Margaret showed you the documents," he said.
"She showed me what she had."
"She's making it look worse than it is."
"Are you still married to her?"
"Yes."
"Are you getting divorced?"
"I'm trying to."
"When?"
He l
