“Thanks.” Lina looked down at her clasped hands, tears suddenly threatening. After her drug-induced sleep, her emotional state was in upheaval, and the feelings of strength and resolve she’d felt when she awoke and later when she spoke to Adele had been replaced with fear and insecurity. It was as if she were a pendulum swinging from one extreme to another.

“I’m sorry.” Diane laid her hand over the back of Lina’s. “I know you’re hurting, but kicking him out can’t possibly be the answer. You look as bad as he does. You should see him. I swear he’s already lost five pounds—I couldn’t get him to eat a thing last night.”

Lina tapped the display on her cell phone and brought up the picture of Phil dancing with Kim, his hand on her butt. “The look on his face,” she said as she slid the phone across the table. “I thought that look was only for me.”

“Oh, Lina,” Diane whispered as she stared down at the picture. “That’s a man in lust, not love. Honey, the way he looks at you is different. Why don’t you delete this?”

“Because I don’t want to forget. There’s more. You can flip through them.”

“I don’t need to.” Diane slid the phone back across the table. “I already know he had an affair.”

“It’s worse when you see the pictures,” Lina said.

“Which is exactly why you should stop looking at them. Do you have a plan? What’s your plan?”

“I’d like to make it through a night without having to take a pill or call him, and once I can do that, I’ll let you know.”

“Do you want to tell me why there is twenty-five thousand dollars missing from our checking account?” Phil asked later that evening. She’d been dreading the call all day as she tried to anticipate his reaction, vacillating between feeling completely justified and unsure about her actions. She’d even driven back to the bank to transfer the money back into their joint account but at the last minute changed her mind.

“I just thought I should have money of my own,” she said after stepping out onto the deck to give herself privacy.

“Why?” He sounded more confused than annoyed.

“Because I’m forty-one years old, and I’ve never had a bank account in only my name. I think it’s time.”

“You realize by putting it into an account in only your name, I’ve lost access to it. It was my money too.”

“I left you half.” She dug her fingers into the back of her neck, kneading her muscles.

“You left me half?” he repeated, frustration creeping into his voice. “That account pays all of our expenses—the mortgage, phones, cable, electricity, taxes, school tuitions. I was building it up so there would be enough to pay the tuitions in December.”