No lecture.
Then he had said:
Just make sure generosity doesn’t become permission.
At the time, I had found it old-fashioned.
Possessive.
Maybe even unfair.
Now I understood what he had meant.
Not protect your money.
Protect the difference between sharing something freely and having someone decide they were entitled to it.
“Dad told me never to put someone on a deed because I was afraid they’d feel less loved otherwise,” I said.
Evelyn stared at me.
“That is painfully Dad.”
I smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
Lily fell asleep in my arms.
For the first time since leaving the hospital, I felt something resembling calm.
Not because the situation had improved.
Because I had stopped pretending that saving my marriage and protecting myself were automatically the same task.
Maybe they weren’t.
Maybe they never had been.
At 7:42 the next morning, Luca called.
I watched his name illuminate my screen from Evelyn’s kitchen table.
I didn’t answer.
He called again.
Then again.
On the fourth call, Phoebe texted me.
Answer if you want. Don’t discuss property, money, accounts, or legal strategy. Keep it calm.
I pressed accept.
“Hello?”
“Finally.”
Luca sounded irritated.
Music played faintly behind him.
Not loud enough to be a club.
A hotel restaurant, perhaps.
“You called four times.”
“Yes, because Martin just called me saying some attorney contacted him about the house.”
“Phoebe contacted him.”
“Why?”
“To ask about the locks.”
Silence.
Then Luca sighed.
“Jessi, I was going to explain that.”
“I’m listening.”
“I had the code changed because too many people knew the old one.”
“Why didn’t I know the new one?”
“You were in the hospital.”
“I came home yesterday.”
“I thought Naomi sent it.”
“Naomi didn’t.”
Another silence.
“The communication got messed up.”
“That seems to be happening a lot.”
“Why are you speaking like this?”
I looked through Evelyn’s kitchen windows.
