“Why is he here?”
Mr. Hernandez shifted politely.
“I was delivering documentation.”
“What documentation?”
I answered.
“My notice.”
Marcus stared at me.
“What notice?”
“I’m leaving the apartment when the lease ends.”
He laughed once, as if I had made a terrible joke.
“Okay. Very funny.”
Nobody laughed.
His expression changed.
“Claire?”
“I’m serious.”
“You can’t just terminate our lease.”
“Our lease?”
His eyes narrowed.
I placed the original agreement on the table.
“My name is the only one on it.”
Marcus looked at Mr. Hernandez.
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” Mr. Hernandez said. “You’re listed as an occupant, Mr. Reed. Ms. Walker is the tenant financially responsible for the unit.”
Marcus looked stunned.
“But I live here.”
“You’re welcome to submit your own application if you’d like to remain after her tenancy ends.”
Marcus stared at him.
“Application?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“Income verification and credit approval would be required.”
That landed exactly where I knew it would.
Marcus turned toward me.
“You planned this?”
“No.”
I pointed toward the food.
“I planned that.”
His eyes moved to the catered dinner.
Then to the cake.
Then back to me.
“What?”
“That dinner was supposed to celebrate your contract.”
He stared at me.
“I ordered it before last night.”
“Then what is all this?”
I looked directly at him.
“Last night you told me I wasn’t your wife.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Claire, seriously? This is about that?”
“No.”
“You’re moving out because of one stupid argument?”
“No.”
“Because I didn’t clean some dishes?”
“No.”
His voice rose.
“Then what the hell is happening?”
I opened the folder in front of me.
“This is happening.”
Inside were twelve months of household expenses.
I slid the first page toward him.
Marcus barely looked at it.
“What is this?”
“Rent.”
Another page.
“Utilities.”
Another.
