“I paid some bills, Diane, it will all balance out,” he said. His voice was gravelly, the words clipped and short.
“Thirty-two thousand dollars is not a standard utility bill,” I said.
I touched my silver wedding band, sliding it up to my knuckle and back down again.
“It was an investment,” he said. He did not elaborate.
“What kind of investment?”
“Something private,” he said, his eyes still on the television. “It is taken care of.”
“We have always discussed any transfer over five hundred dollars,” I said. “That was our rule.”
Troy shrugged, his eyes staying on the screen as the news transitioned to a commercial for lawn tractors. He did not offer another word, his mouth set in a thin, rigid line.
I stood there for three minutes, waiting for him to look at me, but he reached for the remote control and increased the volume.
I walked back into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
