At home, the second I saw Jack’s face, I knew he’d had a bad day and that his earlier perky text message had been a front. He was always thinking of my feelings first.
I dropped my bag by the pile of shoes in our entrance and tipped my head. “What’s wrong?” I asked, leaving my car keys on the cluttered hall table. I noticed more bills fanned out there.
Great. Those bills sure came fast these days. It seemed Jack and I were always playing catch-up with our expenses.
Jack briefly shut his eyes and squared his shoulders. “I had a tough day at work. So I came home and wisely downed a quarter of a bottle of red wine. Now, I’ve been listening to Spandau Ballet’s Gold on repeat, so trust me, I’m glad you’re here.” He turned away and walked off, giving me a great view of his finest asset.
I wa
