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I did as I was told. I always had. And there she was, looking frazzled.

“I didn’t appreciate the phone call from my legal team yesterday. It’s taken me all day to compose myself enough to make this phone call without shouting.”

For the record, she was shouting.

“What are you playing at, Dylan? I thought we’d sorted this once and for all. You agreed. You signed the papers.”

Probably. At the time, I would have signed anything put in front of me.

“Yes. I no doubt did, Veronica,” I said, surprised by how stern I sounded when I was still in last night’s shirt.

I probably smelled. Of him.

“So what do you want now? Because I don’t want to do this again. Just let it lie, Dylan. And where did you suddenly get the funds to contract Gun Larsen of all people? I simply won’t stand for this, Dylan. If you’ve sold the house, you need to declare any change in income for your child support to be recalculated. You’re building up quite a debt.”

Like I didn’t know. I should hang up and, like the sensible lawyer I was, refer her to my representative and shut my mouth. But that wasn’t who I was, and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“I haven’t sold the house. How can I? It’s my home. I bought you out, remember?”

I wanted to roll my eyes because that’s what I usually did. Veronica and I no longer played nice.

“How are you, Veronica?” I countered instead, throwing her off her no doubt incoming rant.

Silence.

“Truly. How are you? Are you coping? I know it’s a lot for you to deal with.”

I hoped I didn’t sound anything but sincere because that was my intention. We were both human, and at one point, we’d loved each other, found safety and peace from sharing space, staring at the stars through the skylight in our bedroom.

The skylight was still there, and I hadn’t looked through it in years.

“I… I…” she started, clearly trying to find the right words. “I’m coping. Of course I am.”

“The kids must be growing up.”

I was fishing.Just give me anything. Tell me how they are.

“Constance is being a pain, refusing to do anything I tell her to. Marmaduke is being referred to a paediatric specialist for his waterworks, and Phinneas is good.”

Okay.

“He’s still wetting the bed?” I asked quietly. Not good. It had been years.

“It was a big change for him. He’s not coping well.”

An admission. I was grateful.

“We need to be honest with each other, Veronica. I need to know what’s going on. I may not see them, but they are still my children. And if there is anything you need, you know I will always step up.”

She snorted.

“What do you want, Dylan?” She sounded as tired as she looked, fiddling with a piece of paper in the background. “I have work to do, and this isn’t a social call.”

“Then what doyouwant, Veronica? You haven’t called me in over a year.”

She rolled her eyes. I did too.

Awkward. These phone calls always had been. Because they always were when your wife left you without a word, took your children away and remarried a couple of months later.