hings into the guest room of our brownstone. Sh

calls to my office. And you will not questi

ning up, my body ached, and I could barely get o

her voice filled with annoyance. "You're

to the pharmacy, N

o deal with thi

round, muffled but clear. It was Wesley.

ence on her end. "I have to go,"

elt a cold clarity. A w

tures. Both Nicole and Wesley had changed theirs to the same image: a subt

o longer a suspici

nd started clearing the shelves. Photos of us on vacation, the mugs we bought on our first anniver

g in the office, the full trash bag at my feet. The air

Why didn't you answer?" she

said calmly. "

er face twisted with anger. "What is this

tormed out of the room. "

ckening crash of glass. The framed photo of us on our wed

ell. I did

y phone and calmly

draft divorce p