He rolled his eyes.
"You always do this."
"Do what?" I snapped.
"You've let yourself go."
"Turn everything into a list of sacrifices. Like I should be grateful you chose to be tired."
"I didn't choose to be tired, Cole. I chose you. And you made me a single parent without even bothering to close the fridge."
He opened his mouth like he was going to argue.
Then he closed it again. Picked up the bottle, and set it down.
"I'm leaving."
"When?"
"Now."
I laughed, short and mean. "You packed already?"
"I chose you."
His jaw tensed.
Of course he had. The clothes. The message. This wasn't spontaneous. It was planned.
"You were going to walk out," I said slowly, "without even saying goodbye to the kids?"
"They'll be fine. I'll send money."
My hand curled around the counter.
"Money," I repeated. "Rose is going to ask where her pancakes are tomorrow. You think a direct deposit's going to answer that?"
