I waited.
At 6:38, he called.
I did not answer.
At 7:02, the condo door opened.
Corbin stepped inside.
He looked older than he had at O’Hare.
Or maybe I had simply seen him differently there.
He stopped when he saw me sitting at the dining table.
My suitcase stood beside the wall.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then, “Sariah.”
I looked at him.
He closed the door.
“You were supposed to land Wednesday.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Theo?”
His face lost all color.
No confusion.
No denial.
Just recognition.
That was the answer.
He sat down slowly.
“What you saw isn’t the whole story.”
I almost laughed.
I had imagined him saying something like that.
Still, hearing it was remarkable.
I asked only one question.
“Then where did three years of my salary go?”
Corbin went completely silent.
Not Theo.
Not Mara.
Not the pregnancy.
Money.
That was what broke whatever script he had prepared.
He looked away.
I waited.
Finally, he said, “I can explain.”
“Start.”
“Sariah.”
“Start with the accounts.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I moved money into investments.”
“What investments?”
“Real estate.”
“Lakefront Residential Partners?”
His eyes snapped toward me.
I smiled.
“Keep going.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Wrong question.”
His jaw tightened.
“The Evanston place is an investment.”
“Then why does Mara live there?”
Silence.
“Why is your son registered at that address?”
His face changed again.
“You spoke to her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
That word told me something.
“Good?”
He caught himself.
“I mean, she doesn’t need to be dragged into this.”
I stared at him.
“She is six months pregnant with your child and living in a property purchased with money from my marriage.”
His expression hardened.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
He stood.
“This is why I wanted to explain before you started assuming things.”
I almost laughed.
“Assuming?”
I walked toward the table and placed copies of the documents in front of him.
Refinance.
