Page 125 of Our Last Resort

“Okay. Well, that happens.”

I didn’t know what else to say. In TV shows, couples often fought about money. It seemed to be part of life.

What I didn’t understand was how the fight had gotten so bad that Gabriel had ended up on my doorstep.

“Does Annie know where you are?”

Gabriel sighed again. In my peripheral vision, he fingered his phone, then placed it facedown on the couch.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I texted her hours ago. She hasn’t replied.”

“Maybe you should go home to her.”

He sat up.

“You want me to leave?”

I craned my neck to look at him.

“No,” I said. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

Gabriel settled back down.

“It’s not just the money,” he said.

Ah.

“I forgot we had plans, the other day. She waited for me at a restaurant for two hours. Tried to call me, too.”

“Where were you?”

“At the library. Doing research.”

“About?”

“Roman emperors of the Flavian dynasty.”

I wasn’t an expert, but I imagined I wouldn’t have been thrilled if I’d been bested by Titus or Domitian in my husband’s list of priorities.

“And a couple of weeks ago,” Gabriel continued, in full-confession mode. “For her birthday. We were trying to make plans, and I said I’d cook up a feast. She misunderstood my tone. I was joking.”

“About making her dinner?”

Gabriel held up a hand.

“You kind of had to be there,” he said.

Still,I thought.What could possibly be funny about that, you idiot?

“When she came home, I was…sitting on the couch, reading and eating saltines out of the box.”

Despite myself, I laughed.

“You’ll work it out,” I said.

I really believed that. Yes, I knew about their troubles, financial and otherwise. And I knew they argued. But I couldn’t picture things being dire. Couldn’t imagine Gabriel or Annie screaming, slamming a table, throwing things.

I’d only ever seen them in love. Their fights existed in an unknown, invisible part of their world. That made them easy to discount.

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