Chapter 3

The next morning at work, I handed in my resignation.

The job back home wasn't settled yet, but the loose ends here had to be tied off first.

I was sorting through my files when I remembered an important document I'd left in Garry's car.

At noon, Garry had the front desk pass me the car keys.

During the lunch break, I went down to the underground parking garage.

The document was wedged at the very bottom of the passenger-side glove compartment. As I pulled it out, a bank statement slid loose and dropped by my foot.

I meant to just stuff it back in, but then I saw Doreen's name in the cardholder line.

Below that, six straight months of charges.

Every single one billed to Garry.

I stared at that statement for a long time, then called Garry outright.

"Come down here."

Ten minutes later, he showed up in the garage.

I held out the statement.

"What is this?"

Garry read the name on it, and his expression shifted a little.

My fingers tightened around it.

"Doreen's bills for the past six months. Why are you the one paying them?"

Garry was quiet for two seconds.

"She forgot to pay a few times before, so I just set up autopay for her while I was at it."

I froze.

"So for six months, you've been the one covering her?"

"She transfers the money back to me."

His tone was getting more and more impatient.

"It's just doing her a favor. Do you have to make everything so complicated?"

"Then why did you never tell me?"

Garry glanced at me like the question made no sense at all.

"What's there to say about something like this? Her income isn't steady. Sometimes she's short on cash, so I cover her for the time being."

I looked back down at the statement.

The latest charge was over twenty thousand in luxury goods.

"You call that being short on cash?"

Garry's face went dark.

"Tamara, since when do you get to control what Doreen spends her money on?"

He pulled the statement out of my hand.

"We're just dating."

"It's my own money. Do I need to report every last cent to you?"

Just dating. The words circled around in my head.

So in Garry's eyes, three years came to no more than that.

My phone lit up with a message from HR right then, asking when I could finish the resignation paperwork.

I looked down and sent back a date.

When I looked up again, Garry was already far down the lot.

That weekend was Garry's mother's birthday, and I'd promised I'd go.

When I got there, Doreen was already sitting in the living room, chatting with Muriel Dickerson.

After the meal, Muriel smiled and called everyone over for a photo.

I'd just walked over when Garry handed me his phone.

"Tamara, you take it. You take nice photos."

Doreen was already standing at his side.

Muriel had one arm looped through hers and one hand on Garry, beaming.

Once the cake was cut, Muriel brought up marriage again.

"It's been three years for the two of you. Time you settled things."

I was about to speak, but Garry answered first.

"Mom, don't push her on this."

"Tamara's been worn out at work lately. Let's talk about it once she's had time to think."

Muriel turned and smiled at Doreen.

"Oh, that reminds me, Doreen. What color would you like for your room?"

My chopsticks stopped dead over the dish.

"What room?"