Chapter 4

Katie’s car was parked outside his building.

He saw it from half a block away and felt something in his chest tighten — not dread exactly, more the feeling of a man who has been walking toward something inevitable and has just run out of road. He took the stairs slowly, not stalling, just breathing, and when he opened the apartment door she was standing in the middle of the living room with her coat still on and her arms crossed and her eyes already lit with the particular fire that meant she had been waiting long enough to build up a full head of steam.

She looked at him. She looked at his bare left wrist where the Rolex had been.

“Tell me,” she said, “that you did not do what I think you did.”

He set his keys on the counter.

“Josh.” Her voice dropped a full register. “Tell me.”

“We agreed to the yibbum,” he said. “We’re getting married.”

The silence lasted about two seconds.

“Married.” She said the word as though she were turning it over to check if it was real. “You’re going to marry that girl. That domesticated, indoctrinated, sheltered little — she has never been outside her own neighborhood, Josh. She doesn’t drive a car. She wears a wig. You walked into that courtroom this morning to do the right thing and instead you — what? Lost your nerve? Decided to throw your entire life away for a dead man’s obligation?” Her voice was climbing. “How could you do this? How could you be this gutless?”