I pulled off my wedding ring.
Ben’s face went pale.
“Laura.”
I set it beside the toaster.
The clock on the oven read 8:03.
Less than an hour earlier, I had been furious because I thought another woman’s hair was hanging out of his exhaust.
Now I almost wished that had been the problem.
“How much do we owe?”
“About 18.”
“Thousand?”
He nodded.
My vision blurred.
“So $21,000 from savings and $18,000 on cards.”
“I’m interviewing.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Ben.”
“I borrowed against my retirement account.”
I sat down.
“How much?”
“Twelve.”
I stopped counting.
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