I turned off the bedside lamp, staring into the dark.
the booth by the emergency exit had a tear in the red vinyl that pinched my maternity leggings every time I shifted. Jack sat across from me, his gold watch catching the low light of the diner lamp as he turned his menu over.
“The townhouse on Elm Street has a double garage,” he said, reaching across the table to touch my fingers. “We can get the keys by the fifteenth, Rebecca. I just need the bank to clear the transition account first.”
I twisted my silver ring, the metal cool against my skin. “The leasing agent called me twice yesterday, Jack. She needs the co-signer signature before Friday.”
“My capital is still tied up in the joint marital assets,” he said, sliding his thumb over his watch face. “Kate has her lawyer auditing every single account from the last three years. If I move twelve hundred dollars for a deposit right now, her team will claim I am hiding marital funds.”
“Twelve hundred dollars is just one month of rent,” I said.
