Aaron had not realized that until he said it.
Then it became obvious.
He had trusted patterns.
Celeste had used categories that appeared plausible.
Children’s clothing.
Travel.
Education.
He saw merchants, not itemized receipts.
He had failed.
That was his part.
He would deal with it.
Celeste’s part remained hers.
“I thought it was fair.”
Aaron stared.
“Fair?”
“Nia has almost four hundred thousand dollars.”
“She is nine.”
“Exactly.”
“She does not need that money right now.”
“It isn’t a prize.”
“It exists because her mother died.”
Celeste looked away.
Aaron continued.
“Do you understand that?”
Every dollar in that trust represented an absence.
Danielle’s life insurance.
Danielle’s inheritance.
Danielle planning for years she knew she would not see.
“You looked at a child who lost her mother and decided the money left behind meant she already had more than your kids.”
Celeste whispered:
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It is what you did.”
She started crying.
Aaron hated himself for feeling almost nothing when he saw it.
Not because he had stopped loving her.
Because another image kept replacing her tears.
Nia staring at the floor beside a sixty-four-dollar pair of shoes while thousands of dollars of her own money paid for everybody else.
Aaron said:
“You need to stay somewhere else tonight.”
Celeste looked up.
“What?”
“I’m not asking you to leave the marriage tonight.”
“I’m asking you to leave the house.”
“Aaron.”
“The children need quiet.”
“My children live here.”
“Yes.”
“They can stay.”
She stared.
“You’re keeping my children and sending me away?”
“I am giving you the choice.”
“You can take Jordan and Layla.”
“Or they can stay if you think moving them tonight will make things harder.”
Celeste stared toward the house.
“What will you tell them?”
“The truth appropriate for their age.”
“That their mother is a thief?”
“No.”
“I don’t know yet what words belong to this.”
“That is why I am not using them.”
She wiped her face.
“You’re going to divorce me.”
Aaron looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
That was true.
She laughed bitterly.
“You know.”
“No.”
He continued.
“What I know is that I cannot have you here tonight while I ask Nia what has been happening.”
Celeste’s face changed.
“Ask her?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll exaggerate because she’s upset.”
Aaron became completely still.
Celeste immediately realized what she had said.
Too late.
“That sentence is why you need to leave.”
“Aaron—”
“No.”
His voice was not loud.
It did not need to be.
“You have already decided her account is less trustworthy before she gives it.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“You just did.”
Celeste looked toward the house.
Then walked to her car.
Before getting in, she turned.
“I love her too.”
Aaron believed she believed that.
That somehow made the situation sadder.
“I know.”
Celeste drove away.
Aaron stood in the driveway for almost a minute.
Then went inside.
Jordan and Layla were on opposite ends of the couch.
Neither had turned on the television.