She hated the way he was saying her name, as if she was a dense child. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I mean, I knew the bills for the house were adding up, but I guess I just figured it would all sort itself out in the end. We were so close to being done.”

“It’s so easy for you,” Ted said. “You waltz around the gallery, making almost nothing, but you get to live like you sweat it out on Wall Street.”

“Whoa! That’s not fair!” Maja cried. How could he say that? He’d always encouraged her to stay at the gallery. He liked being the one who made the money. “I never asked you to work in finance,” she said, her voice shaking. “This is your life too. This is what you wanted.”

Ted looked at the space between them, where the newspaper and the beer bottles lay. “This is not what I wanted,” he said. “But you’re right. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t take this out on you. It’s all my fault.”

Maja’s mind was reeling. “So we’re broke. And you’ve been doing what—drinking beer all day?” She had a chilling thought. Ted had lost his job weeks before she’d gone down to New Falls. “What were you doing all day when I was here?”

“You really want to know?” he asked her. “I went to coffee shops. I walked around. I hit up all my contacts for job leads. You have to understand, Maja. I thought I could fix this. That I could just come to you when I had a new job, and you wouldn’t have to worry. But no one is hiring.” His burst of anger had passed, and now he looked like he was going to cry.

Maja tried get her thoughts straight. “But what about that night two weeks ago, when we sat at Reilly’s, and you told me we could start IVF? You must have known then that we didn’t have the money.”

“I couldn’t bear to disappoint you,” he said. “You’re already dealing with so much. I did want to be able to give that to you. I’m sorry, Maja.”