The document in the final pocket was a six-month lease for a one-bedroom apartment in Golden, signed three days before the barbecue.
Daniel found it before he found anything else.
He came through the front door with Ava behind him, dropped his keys beside the blue file out of habit, then stopped when he saw my house key sitting on top.
The kitchen still smelled faintly like the coffee I had made that morning, and I was standing by the sink drinking water because I still had not eaten.
Daniel opened the file.
Ava stayed near the hallway.
He read the first page, then the lease, then looked at me.
“You rented an apartment?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
I put the glass down.
“For me.”
He gave a small laugh that sounded more confused than angry.
“You already had somewhere to go before today.”
“That’s right.”
Ava looked from him to me.
Daniel closed the file halfway.
“So this whole thing was planned.”
“No. The barbecue wasn’t planned.”
The lease began Monday, and I had paid the deposit from the separate account listed behind it.
Eight months earlier, after Daniel had first suggested I sleep somewhere else because Ava was upset with me, I had opened that account with part of my own paycheck.
I had never told him.
That part was mine.
Daniel touched the house key with one finger.
“You were just waiting for a reason to walk out.”
“I was waiting until I knew I could.”
From the hallway, Ava said, “Were you going to leave us?”
The question landed harder than anything Daniel had said.
I could have softened it.
I didn’t.
“I was making sure I had somewhere to sleep if your dad told me to leave again.”
