Chapter 7

Mark sounded almost satisfied, as though he had finally found something that would frighten me into stopping. I sat at the small table in my apartment, the attorney’s email open in front of me. "I’m not asking you to refuse." "You understand what happens if we go through with this?" "Yes." "No more packing a bag and coming home when you’ve calmed down." My eyes moved to the clothes drying over a chair. I had washed them after work, then made enough soup for two dinners. There was...