I stared.
“That’s not possible.”
“It is.”
“You’ve been going to work.”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where have you been going every morning?”
“Coffee shops.”
“The library.”
“Job interviews.”
“Anywhere.”
I could barely process it.
“Vanessa knows?”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“I kept thinking I would find something before I had to tell her.”
“You lost your job four months ago and have been pretending to go to work every day?”
“Yes.”
“What about your salary?”
“Severance lasted a while.”
“Then savings.”
“What savings?”
His face told me.
I felt cold.
“The nursery.”
He closed his eyes.
“Credit cards.”
“The stroller?”
“Card.”
“The crib?”
“Card.”
“The hospital plan?”
“Payment arrangement.”
I stared.
“How much debt?”
He told me.
I thought I had misheard.
“Again.”
He repeated it.
My chest tightened.
“Vanessa thinks you have savings.”
“I know.”
“She thinks your job is secure.”
“I know.”
“She thinks you’re taking paternity leave next month.”
“I know.”
I stood despite the pain still moving through my body.
“Then you are going to tell her.”
He shook his head.
