Silence.
“You said once Nathan left, we’d get the apartment.”
Brooke answered too quietly.
Derek asked her to repeat herself.
Then:
“I said I’m not blowing up my entire life for you until I know what I’m walking away with.”
Derek went silent.
Then:
“What does that mean?”
“I have a house.”
Brooke sounded impatient.
“Investments. Stability.”
“You said you loved me.”
“I do.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Their argument escalated.
Then Derek said:
“What about the money you moved?”
Tom paused the recording.
He looked at me.
“What money?”
“I don't know.”
We resumed.
Melissa:
“What money?”
Brooke:
“Drop it.”
Derek laughed bitterly.
“You told me that account was yours.”
“It is.”
“You told me it was money Nathan didn't know about.”
Tom paused it again.
“You need a lawyer.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
I called one that afternoon.
Her name was Dana Whitaker.
Tom had used her firm during a partnership dispute.
I gave her the broad outline.
She stopped me when I mentioned the notebook.
Then again when I mentioned money.
“Do not confront Brooke about finances.”
“Why?”
“Because if money has moved, you need documents before she knows you’re looking.”
She told me what I could lawfully collect.
Joint bank records.
Tax returns.
Credit card statements.
Retirement balances.
Mortgage statements.
Investment records.
Insurance.
“Do not drain accounts.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
“Do not change passwords on accounts jointly owned without asking me first.”
“Okay.”
“Do not threaten Derek.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Everybody says that.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then keep being serious.”
I stayed at Tom and Rachel’s again.
That evening, I finally answered Brooke.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my husband.”
I nearly laughed.
“You remembered.”
“Nathan.”
Her voice was gentle now.
Careful.
“I was drunk.”
“You were coordinated enough to hang onto Derek.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I was angry.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
“For?”
“You’ve shut me out.”
A week earlier, I would have defended myself.
Explained my schedule.
Promised more dates.
Asked how to fix things.
Instead I asked:
“Did Melissa contact you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Why?”
“Did she?”
“I called her.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing useful.”
Lie.
Melissa had shown me nine missed calls.
I almost corrected Brooke.
Then remembered Dana.
Gather records first.
“I’m tired.”
“Come home.”