Something in my chest braced automatically. Five years of conversations that started that way had trained me well.

"I called Vivienne," he said. "Yesterday. Told her to take the post down, the one she tagged me in. She refused." His jaw tightened in the way it did when something had genuinely gotten through his composure. "And then she said she didn't understand why I was making such an effort for someone I was already divorcing."

The kitchen went very quiet.

"And what did you say?" I asked. My voice was steady. I was almost surprised.

He looked at me directly. No performance, no managed expression, just honesty, plain and slightly...