She looked at him for a long moment — the same man who had walked out when she could barely stand, now standing in her doorway like a ghost of the life she’d already buried. “You want to take care of me now?” she asked quietly. “Where were you when I couldn’t even walk to the bathroom without help?
When the nurses had to hold me up because you were ‘stuck in traffic’?” He opened his mouth, but no words came. She walked to the kitchen counter, picked up a folded envelope, and handed it to him. He frowned. “What’s this?”