The binder landed with a dull thud, making the silverware rattle. Ashley frowned at it like I’d put a dead animal in the middle of the table.
“What is that?” she asked.
“History,” I said. “Ours.”
Jake’s jaw flexed. “Emily, not tonight.”
“I agree,” Ashley said quickly. “Can we not make everything about you? This is Jake’s celebration dinner.”
I turned a page, the plastic sheet protectors whispering. Each page was neatly labeled, highlighted, tabbed: Loans, Tuition, Down Payment, Family Assistance.
Ashley rolled her eyes. “You made a scrapbook of his money or something?”
I slid the first page toward her. “That’s the $42,000 wire from my old job’s severance package, straight to Sallie Mae, paid in full. Jake’s student loans. Five years ago.”
Ashley glanced down, then back up. “So? You helped him out once.”
“Turn the page,” I said.
There was the cashier’s check for the down payment on the condo—my name on the account, my signature, the memo line reading Primary residence down payment. Below it, a photocopy of the deed: owner, Emily Clark.
Across from me, Jake’s mom, Linda, who’d been quiet until now, squinted at the paper. “I thought you two bought this place together,” she said, looking at her son.
“We did,” Jake muttered. “It’s just paperwork—”
“Your credit score wasn’t high enough to co-sign,” I said calmly. “Remember? The late payments from before we met?”
Ashley made a face. “This doesn’t prove you didn’t bleed him dry after that.”
I flipped to the next tab: Family Assistance.
“There’s the $1,800 I transferred to your account three years ago, Ash,” I said. “When your credit card went into collections. Jake called me from the parking lot at work, panicking, because they might garnish your wages. I wired the money within the hour.”
Her smirk faltered. “That was… a loan.”
“Funny,” I said. “There’s no record of any payment back.”
Ashley’s cheeks reddened. “Why are you doing this? Because Jake asked for separate accounts? That’s normal. Adults do that.”
I finally looked at Jake. “Is that how you explained it to them? That you were bravely cutting off your freeloading wife?”
He held my gaze for a beat, then looked away. “I told them I was tired of feeling used, Emily. That I’d been covering everything for a year while you played around with ‘maybe clients.’ That I had to take out a personal loan just to keep this place.”
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