When I called her a while back and told her what Frank had done—was still doing—know what she said? ‘Just leave.’ Like it’s as simple as that.” She laughed, and it sounded like the wine was doing its job. “Leave. I’ve got a mortgage, a job. No car. Sam has school. How are we supposed to just leave? She’s never lived paycheck to paycheck. Never took a punch from someone she loved. But, you know . . . just leave.” She whispered the last two words.
